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Title: The Lady from Long Acre

Author: Victor Bridges

Illustrator: Ray Rohn

Release date: January 2, 2022 [eBook #67078]

Language: English

Original publication: United States: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1919

Credits: Al Haines


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADY FROM LONG ACRE ***







[Frontispiece: Then, just in the nick of time, he turned to meet the
driver of the cart.  There was no chance of repeating his former
tactics, for the sheer weight of the latter's rush had brought him
into close quarters, and the next instant they were swaying up and
down clutched in each other's arms.]



  The
  Lady from Long Acre


  By

  Victor Bridges

  Author of "A Rogue by Compulsion," "The Man from Nowhere,"
  "Jetsam"



  _Illustrated by Ray Rohn_



  G. P. Putnam's Sons
  New York and London
  The Knickerbocker Press
  1919




  Copyright, 1919
  BY
  VICTOR BRIDGES



  The Knickerbocker Press, New York




  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I.--"Tiger" Bugg Versus "Lightning" Lopez
  II.--The Morals of Molly
  III.--Two Yellow-Faced Foreigners
  IV.--Like a Fairy Story
  V.--The Leniency of Justice
  VI.--Pricing an Heirloom
  VII.--Bugg's Strategy
  VIII.--Affairs in Livadia
  IX.--A Run-Away Queen
  X.--The Royal Enterprise
  XI.--The Baited Trap
  XII.--Molly Becomes an Ally
  XIII.--A Move by the Enemy
  XIV.--A Disturbance in Hampstead
  XV.--Impending Events
  XVI.--An Artistic Forgery
  XVII.--A Decoy Message
  XVIII.--The Royal Pass
  XIX.--Jimmy Dale
  XX.--Counterplotting
  XXI.--The Solution
  XXII.--Getting Access to Isabel
  XXIII.--Kidnapping the Bride
  XXIV.--Making Sure of Isabel




ILLUSTRATIONS

Just in the Nick of Time he Turned to Meet the Driver of the Car . .
. _Frontispiece_

Tony Sent the Fellow Staggering Back to the Edge of the Pavement

"I am so Sorry to have Kept you Waiting," Said Tony

"And do you Mean to Say," he Remarked, "that you really Waste this on
Dramatic Critics?"

His Gaze finally Came to Rest on the Barrel of the Mauser Pistol

"I will Tell you the Whole Story if you Like, Aunt Fanny"




The Lady from Long Acre



CHAPTER I

"TIGER" BUGG VERSUS "LIGHTNING" LOPEZ

Lady Jocelyn sighed gently and put down her cup on the tea-table.

"I suppose, Tony," she said, "that when one gets to seventy-two,
one's conscience begins to decay just as one's body does.  I seem to
like good people less and immoral and useless ones more.  You are the
only member of the family it gives me the faintest pleasure to see
nowadays."

Sir Antony Raymond Fulk Desmoleyn Conway--Conway Bart., more commonly
known as Tony, nodded his head.

"They are rather a stuffy lot the others, aren't they!" he answered
cheerfully.  "Who's been round to see you?"

"Only Laura and Henry as yet."  Lady Jocelyn spoke with some
thankfulness.

"Well, that's enough," observed Tony.  "Ten minutes with either of
them always makes me feel I want to do something improper."

"Allowing for age and infirmity," said Lady Jocelyn, "they have a
rather similar effect on me."

Tony laughed.  "So you have heard all about my misdeeds?"

"I would hardly go as far as that.  They were only here for two
hours.  You may smoke you know, Tony, if you want to."

He lighted a cigarette.  "Tell me, Aunt Fanny," he pleaded.  "There
is no pleasure in blackening the family name unless one hears what
the family says about it."

"The family," remarked Lady Jocelyn, "has a good deal to say about
it.  They consider that not only are you wasting your own life in the
most deplorable manner, but that your methods of amusing yourself are
calculated to bring a certain amount of discredit upon your more
distinguished relatives.  Henry attributes it chiefly to the
demoralizing effect of wealth; Laura thinks that you were born with
naturally low tastes."

"They're both right," observed Tony placidly.  "I am what Guy calls
'a menace to my order.'  That's a jolly way for one's secretary to
talk to one, isn't it?"

"It's the only way dear Guy can talk, and after all I daresay he is
telling the truth."

"I am sure he is," said Tony.  "Guy is quite incapable of telling
anything else."  He paused.  "Was Henry referring to any recent
atrocity?"

"I think your choice of friends is what distresses him chiefly.  He
said that your more intimate acquaintances appear to consist of
prize-fighters and chauffeurs."

Tony laughed good-humouredly.  "I do a bit of motor racing, you know.
I suppose that's what he meant by chauffeurs.  As for
prize-fighters--well, somebody must have been telling him about Bugg."

"About what?" inquired Lady Jocelyn mildly.

"Bugg," repeated Tony.  "'Tiger' Bugg.  He's a youthful protégé of
mine--a boxer.  In about three years, when he's grown a bit, he'll be
champion of England."

Lady Jocelyn's good-humoured face wrinkled up into a whimsical smile.

"Dear Tony," she said.  "Your conversation is always so stimulating.
Tell me some more about Mr. Tiger Bugg.  What a name!  It sounds like
some kind of American butterfly."

"Oh, he spells it with two g's," said Tony.  "It's a very good name
in the East End of London.  There have been Buggs in Whitechapel for
generations."

"So I have always understood," replied Lady Jocelyn.  "How did you
come across this particular branch of the family?"

"It was at a boxing club off the Stepney High Street.  It's a
blackguard sort of place run by a Jew named Isaacs.  He gets in the
East End street boys, and they fight each other for nothing in the
hope that some boxing promoter will see them and give them a chance.
Well, one night when I was there they put up this boy Bugg against a
fellow who was big enough to eat him--a chap who knew something about
the game, too.  Bugg was hammered nearly silly in the first round,
but he came up for the second and popped in a left hook bang on the
point that put the big chap to sleep for almost ten minutes.  It was
one of the prettiest things I've ever seen."

"It sounds delightful," said Lady Jocelyn.  "Go on, Tony."

"I was so pleased with his pluck," pursued the baronet tranquilly,
"that I sent for him after the show and took him out to have some
supper.  I thought he was precious hungry from the way he wolfed his
food, and when I asked him I found he'd had nothing to eat all day
except a bit of dry bread for breakfast.  In addition to that he had
tramped about ten miles looking for a job.  Hardly what one would
call a good preparation for fighting a fellow twice your size."

"It seems a most deserving case," remarked Lady Jocelyn
sympathetically.

"That's what I thought," said Tony.  "I had him up to Hampstead the
next day and I gave him a good try out with the gloves.  I saw at
once that I'd got hold of something quite out of the common.  He
didn't know much about the science of the game, but he was just a
born boxer--one of those boys who take to fighting as naturally as
they do to breathing.  He seemed a decent lad too in his way--a bit
rough, of course, but then you couldn't expect anything else.  Anyhow
the end of it was I took him on, and he has been with me ever since."

"How nice!" said Lady Jocelyn.  "And in what capacity does he figure
in the household returns?"

Tony indulged in a smile.  "I always call him my assistant
secretary," he said, "just to fetch old Guy.  As a matter of fact
Bugg is a most useful chap.  There's hardly anything he can't do.
When he isn't training for a fight, we use him as a sort of
maid-of-all-work."

"Oh, he still fights then?"

"Rather," said Tony.  "He has never been beaten yet.  Backing Bugg is
my only source of income apart from the estate.  I made twelve
hundred pounds out of him last year."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Lady Jocelyn.  "I had no idea you had a regular
profession like that, Tony.  What sort of people does he fight with?"

"We are open to meet any one in the world up to ten stone seven.  In
fact there are only about four who really matter that he hasn't met.
There will be one less after to-morrow."

"What happens to-morrow?"

"Bugg is going to fight 'Lightning Lopez' at the Cosmopolitan."

"What beautiful names all these people seem to have," said Lady
Jocelyn.  "Who is 'Lightning Lopez'?"

"He calls himself the champion welter-weight of Europe," replied Tony
a little contemptuously.  "He's half an American and half a Livadian.
That's why Pedro has taken him up."

"Pedro?" repeated Lady Jocelyn.  "Do you mean King Pedro?"

Tony nodded.  "Yes, Lopez is being backed by royalty or rather
ex-royalty.  We hope to have five hundred of the best out of His
Majesty by to-morrow night."

"Are you a friend of Pedro's?" asked Lady Jocelyn.

"Oh, hardly that," said Tony.  "He belongs to the Cosmo, you know,
and I often meet him at races and first nights."

Lady Jocelyn paused for a moment.

"I remember him very well as a little boy at Portriga before the
revolution," she said.  "What has he grown up like?"

"Well," observed Tony, thoughtfully brushing some cigarette ash from
his sleeve, "he's short and fat and dark and rather spotty, and he
drinks too much."

Lady Jocelyn nodded.  "Ah!" she said, "just like his poor father.
Has he inherited the family weakness for female society?"

"He's a bit of a rip," said Tony.  "Or rather he was.  Molly Monk of
the Gaiety has got hold of him now, and I think she keeps him pretty
straight.  She's not the sort to stand any nonsense, you know."

"I will take your word for it, Tony," said Lady Jocelyn gravely.

Tony laughed.  "Well, you can, Aunt Fanny," he returned.  "I've known
Molly since she was a little flapper.  She is the granddaughter of
old Monk who used to look after the lodge at Holbeck."

Lady Jocelyn raised her eyebrows.  "Dear me!" she exclaimed.  "Is
that so, Tony!  Why I remember the old man perfectly.  She must be a
clever girl to have got on like she has.  What a pity she couldn't be
content with her profession."

"Oh, Molly's all right," said Tony carelessly.  "She's straight
enough as girls of that sort go.  You can be quite sure she's really
fond of Pedro or she wouldn't have anything to do with him."

"He didn't sound exactly lovable from your description of him,"
remarked Lady Jocelyn.

"Well, perhaps I didn't do him justice.  He isn't such a bad fellow
in his way, you know.  He drinks too much and he's stupid and spoilt,
but he's quite good-natured and amiable with it.  I have no doubt
Molly can twist him round her finger; and I suppose there's a certain
attraction in having a king trotting around after you--even if he is
out of a job.  No doubt it annoys the other girls."

"As a bachelor, my dear boy," said Lady Jocelyn, "you have no right
to be so well acquainted with feminine weaknesses."  She paused.
"You know you really ought to get married, Tony," she added, "if only
to circulate your income."

Tony laughed.  "You have hit on my one strong point as a capitalist,"
he said.  "You ask Guy, Aunt Fanny!"

"But you can't spend forty thousand a year by yourself--surely?"

"Oh, I get a little help now and then.  I don't know that I really
want it though.  It's wonderful what one can do with practice and a
steam yacht."

"It's not nearly as wonderful as what you could do with a wife," said
Lady Jocelyn.  "Anyhow you ought to get married if only to please me.
I shall soon be too old for travelling about, and then I shall want
some really naughty children to give me an interest in life.  I shall
never be interested in Henry's twins: they are such dreadful little
prigs."

Tony got up from his chair and taking the old lady's slender, much
beringed hand raised it to his lips.

"If you feel like that, Aunt Fanny," he said, "I shall certainly have
to think about it.  You won't mind who she is, I suppose?"

"I only make two stipulations," said Lady Jocelyn.  "She mustn't be a
German and she mustn't wear squeaky boots."

Tony laughed.  "All right, Aunt Fanny," he said.  "I can promise you
that safely."

He walked to the window and glanced down into Chester Square where a
huge venomous-looking, two-seated Peugot was filling up the roadway.

"I must toddle away now," he observed.  "I want to run up to the
Club, and see that everything's all right for to-morrow night, and
then I must get back home and change.  I have promised to go to this
fancy dress dance at the Albert Hall, and it will take me a long time
to look like Charles the Second."

Lady Jocelyn leaned forward and rang the bell.  "Come and see me
again some day, Tony," she said, "when you have nothing better to do.
I shall be home till the end of July, at all events."

Tony bent down and kissed her affectionately.  "I shall often be
dropping in if I may," he said.  "I am always in scrapes you know,
Aunt Fanny, and you are about the only person I can look to for a
little sympathy and encouragement."

"If my moral support is of any use, Tony," she said, "you can count
on it to the utmost."

Outside the house a small crowd of loafers and errand boys had
gathered round the car, which with its enormous strapped bonnet and
disk wheels looked singularly out of place in this trim, respectable
neighbourhood.

"Wotyer call that, guv'nor?" inquired one of them.  "A cycle car?"

"It's the new Baby Peugot," replied Tony gravely.

He started up the engine, and climbing into the seat, disappeared
round the corner, followed by the admiring glances of his audience.

The Cosmopolitan Club, the headquarters of British pugilism, is
situated in Covent Garden.  It is regarded by some excellent people
as a plague spot that will eventually be wiped away by the rising
flood of a more humanized civilization, but this opinion can hardly
be said to represent the views of the porter and carmen who frequent
the vicinity.  To them the Club represents all that is best and
brightest in English civilization, and amongst its numerous and oddly
assorted members nobody could claim to be better known or more
popular than Tony.

As the big car picked its way over the cobbles, twisting neatly in
and out between unattended carts and piles of empty baskets, a good
number of the men who were lounging about greeted the owner with a
friendly salute.  When he reached the Club and pulled up, several of
them stepped forward eagerly to open the door.

"'Ow abaht ter-morrer, sir," inquired one huge, hoarse-voiced carter.
"Sife to shove a bit on Tiger?"

"You can shove your horse and cart on him," said Tony, "and if it
doesn't come off I'll buy you another."

He jumped out and crossed the pavement, followed by an approving
murmur from everyone who had heard his offer.

The carter spat decisively into the gutter.  "E's a ruddy nobleman,
'e is," he observed, looking round the group with a bloodshot eye.
"'Oo says 'e ain't?"

No one ventured on such a rash assertion; indeed, putting aside the
carter's discouraging air, everyone present considered Tony's offer
to be the very acme of aristocratic behaviour.

The creator of this favourable impression pushed open the swinging
door of the Club and, accepting a couple of letters from the hotel
porter, walked through into the comfortably furnished bar lounge at
the back.  Its two inhabitants, who were each in the act of consuming
a cocktail, glanced round at his entrance.  One was "Doggy"
Donaldson, the manager, a burly, genial-looking, bullet-headed
individual with close-cropped grey hair, and a permanently unlit
cigar jutting up rakishly out of the corner of his mouth.

"Hello, Tony," he exclaimed.  "You're just in time to join us.  You
know the Marquis da Freitas, of course?"

Tony nodded easily, and Donaldson's companion, a stout,
dark-complexioned, well-dressed man of about fifty with a certain air
of distinction about him, returned the greeting with a courteous wave
of his hand.

"We meet as enemies, Sir Antony," he remarked smilingly.

"Well, I just dropped in for a second to see that everything was all
right about to-morrow," said Tony.  "Our boy is in fine form: never
been fitter.  I hope you have been equally lucky?"

The Marquis indulged in the faintest possible shrug of his broad
shoulders.  "I believe so," he said.  "I am not a great authority on
these matters myself, but they amuse His Majesty."

"Everything's O.K.," observed the manager in a satisfied voice.  "We
sold the last seat this morning, and there have been several
applications since.  It's going to be the best night of the season.
You will see your boy turns up in good time, won't you?"

Tony helped himself to the cocktail, which the barman, without asking
any superfluous questions, had been quietly preparing for him.

"Right you are," he said, drinking it off.  "What's the betting,
Doggy?"

"Martin-Smith told me this morning he'd got a level hundred on Lopez."

Tony put down the empty glass.  "Ah well," he said, "he can afford to
lose it."

There was a short pause.

"You seem confident, Sir Antony," remarked the Marquis in his suave
voice.  "Perhaps you would like to back your opinion a little
further.  I don't know much about this sort of thing, as I said just
now, but I am prepared to support our man if only from patriotic
motives."

"Anything you care to suggest, Marquis," said Tony indifferently.

"Shall we say a couple of hundred, then?"

Tony nodded, and booked the bet on his shirt cuff.

"I must be off now," he said.  "I suppose you and the King will be at
the Albert Hall to-night?"

The Marquis shook his head.  "I do not think His Majesty intends to
be present.  As for me--" he again shrugged his shoulders--"I grow
old for such frivolities."

"Well, till to-morrow then," said Tony.

He passed out again through the hall, and jumping into the car
steered his way slowly round the corner into Long Acre, where he
branched off in the direction of Piccadilly.  He was just passing
Garnett's, the celebrated theatrical costumier, when the door of that
eminent establishment swung open, and a very pretty and smartly
dressed girl stepped out on to the pavement.  Directly Tony saw her
he checked the car and turned it gently in towards the gutter.

She came up to him with a most attractive smile.

"But how convenient, Tony," she exclaimed.  "You will be able to
drive me home.  I was just going to waste my money on a taxi."

He leaned across and opened the door.  "You can give me the bob
instead, Molly," he said.  "Jump in."

She stepped up alongside of him, and with a harsh croak the big car
glided forward again into the thronging bustle of Leicester Square.

"Funny picking you up like this," he said.  "I've just been talking
about you."

"I'm always being talked about," replied Molly serenely.  "I hope you
weren't as nasty as most people."

"I was saying that you were the only girl in London with that
particular shade of red hair."  Tony brought out this shameless
untruth with the utmost coolness.

"It is rather nice, isn't it?" said Molly.  "All the girls think I
touch it up.  As a matter of fact it's one of the few parts of me I
don't."  She paused.  "What were you really saying about me, Tony?"

"Oh, quite nice things," he replied.  "Can you fancy me saying
anything else?"

"No," she said.  "I'll admit you're an amiable beast as men go.  But
why haven't you been to see me lately?"

Grasping his opportunity Tony darted across the bows of an onrushing
motor-bus, and gained the comparative shelter of Regent Street.

"If it is a fact," he observed, "I can only attribute it to idiocy."

"You know it's a fact," said Molly, "and it's hurt me, Tony.  I
wouldn't mind being chucked by any one else.  But somehow you're
different.  I have always looked on you as a pal."

Tony slipped his left hand off the wheel for a second and lightly
squeezed hers.

"So I am, Molly," he said.  "Why on earth should I have changed?"

"I thought you might be sick with me about--well, about Peter."

"Good Lord, no," said Tony.  "I never criticize my friends' hobbies.
If I haven't routed you out lately, it's only because I've been
really busy."

Her face brightened.  "You're a nice old thing, Tony," she said.
"Come and lunch with me to-morrow if you're not booked up.  Just us
two.  I really do want to have a talk with you, badly."

"Right-o," said Tony.  "You'll be able to give me the latest stable
information about Lopez.  It's the fight to-morrow night, you know."

Molly nodded.  "Peter thinks he's going to win all right," she said.
"He's cocksure about it."

"I gathered that," said Tony.  "I ran into da Freitas at the Club
just now and he bet me a level two hundred we were in for a whipping.
I shouldn't think he was a gentleman who chucked away his money out
of patriotic sentiment."

Molly made as near an approach to an ugly face as nature would allow.

"You don't like him?" inquired Tony artlessly.

"He's a pig," said Molly, and then after a short pause she added with
some reluctance, "but he's a clever pig."

"That," observed Tony, "only aggravates the offence."

He pulled up at Basil Mansions, a big block of luxurious flats just
opposite the Langham Hotel, and a magnificently gilded porter
hastened forward to open the door of the car.

"I'll tell you about him to-morrow," said Molly.  "Don't be later
than half-past one.  I'm always starving by then, and I shan't wait
for you."

"I am always punctual for meals," said Tony.  "It's the only virtue
that's rewarded on the spot."




CHAPTER II

THE MORALS OF MOLLY

It was exactly eleven o'clock when Tony woke up.  He looked at his
watch, yawned, stretched himself, ran his fingers through his hair,
and then reaching out his hand pressed the electric bell beside his
bed.  After a short pause it was answered by a middle-aged,
clean-shaven man, with a face like a tired sphinx, who entered the
room carrying a cup of tea upon a tray.  Tony sat up and blinked at
him.

"Good-morning, Spalding," he observed.

"Good-morning, Sir Antony," returned the man; "I trust that you slept
well, sir?"

"Very well, thank you," replied Tony.  "What time did I get home?"

"I fancy it was a little after four, sir."

Tony took a long drink out of the tea-cup, and then put it down
again.  "I am curiously thirsty this morning, Spalding," he said.
"Was I quite sober when I came back?"

The man hesitated.  "I should describe you as being so, sir," he
replied.

"Thank you, Spalding," said Tony gratefully.

Crossing the room the valet drew up the blinds, and admitted a
cheerful stream of sunshine.

"Mr. Oliver left a message, sir, to say that he would not be back
until the afternoon.  He has gone out on business and is lunching
with Mr. Henry Conway."

"Where's Bugg?" inquired Tony.

"At the present moment, sir, I believe he is in the gymnasium.  He
informed me that he was about to loosen his muscles with a little
shadow boxing."

"Is he all right?"

"He appears to be in the most robust health, sir."

A look of relief passed across Tony's face.  "You have taken a weight
off my mind, Spalding," he said.  "I dreamed that he had broken his
neck."

The valet shook his head reassuringly.

"I observed no sign of it, sir, when I passed him in the hall."

"In that case," said Tony, "I think I shall get up.  You can fill the
bath, Spalding, and you can tell the cook I shan't want any
breakfast."

The impassive servant bowed and withdrew from the room, and after
finishing his tea, Tony got luxuriously out of bed, and proceeded to
drape himself in a blue silk dressing-gown with gold dragons
embroidered round the hem.  It was a handsome garment originally
intended for the President of China, but that gentleman had
unexpectedly rejected it on the ground that it was too ornate for the
elected head of a democratic community.  At least that was how the
Bond Street shopman who had sold it to Tony had accounted for its
excessive price.

Lighting a cigarette, Tony sauntered across to the bathroom, where a
shave, a cold tub, and a few minutes of Muller's exercises were
sufficient to remove the slight trace of lassitude induced by his
impersonation of Charles the Second.  Then, still clad in his
dressing-gown, he strolled down the main staircase, and opening the
front door passed out into the garden.

The house was one of those two or three jolly old-fashioned survivals
which still stand in their own grounds in the neighbourhood of Jack
Straw's Castle.  Tony had bought up the freehold several years
previously, the quaint old Georgian residence in its delightful
surroundings appealing to him far more than his own gloomy family
mansion in Belgrave Square.  As he himself was fond of explaining, it
gave one all the charm of living in the country without any of its
temptations to virtue.

A few yards' walk along a gravel path, hedged in on each side by
thick laurel bushes, brought him to the gymnasium.  The door was
slightly open, and from the quick patter and shuffle of footsteps
inside, it sounded as if a number of ballet girls were practising a
novel and rather complicated form of step dance.

The spectacle that actually met Tony's eyes when he entered, however,
was of a less seductive nature.  Clad only in a pair of flannel
trousers, a young man was spinning and darting about the room in the
most extraordinary fashion, indulging at the same time in
lightning-like movements with his head and arms.  To the uninitiated
observer he would have appeared to be either qualifying for a lunatic
asylum or else attempting the difficult feat of catching flies on the
wing.  As a matter of fact either assumption would have been equally
inaccurate.  He was engaged in what is known amongst pugilists as
"shadow boxing" which consists of conducting an animated contest with
a vicious but imaginary opponent.

On seeing Tony the young man in question came to an abrupt halt in
the middle of the room, and raised his forefinger to his
close-cropped forehead.

"Mornin', Sir Ant'ny," he observed.

Notwithstanding his exertions he spoke without the least trace of
breathlessness, and there was no sign of perspiration upon his clean
white skin.  He looked what he was--a splendidly built lad of about
nineteen, trained to the last pitch of physical fitness.

Tony glanced him over with an approving eye.  "Good-morning, Bugg,"
he answered.  "I am glad to see you looking so well.  I dreamed you
had broken your neck."

The lad grinned cheerfully.  "Not me, sir.  Never felt better in me
life.  Must 'a bin the other bloke."

"I hope not," said Tony anxiously.  "I backed you for another
two-fifty yesterday, and I can't very well claim the money unless the
fight comes off.  By the way, a hundred of that goes on to the purse
if you do the trick all right."

The young prize-fighter looked a trifle embarrassed.  "There ain't no
call for that, sir--thankin' ye kindly all the saime, sir.  I'd knock
out 'alf a dozen blokes like Lopez for a purse o' three 'undred."

"Your unmercenary nature is one of your chief charms, Bugg," said
Tony.  "All the same you mustn't carry it to extremes.  How much
money have you got in the bank now?"

Bugg scratched his ear.  "The last time I goes in, sir, the old
geezer with the whiskers says somethin' abaht a matter of eleven
'undred quid."

"Well, by to-morrow you ought to have fifteen hundred.  In other
words, Bugg, you will be a capitalist--one of the idle rich.  That
money, properly invested, will bring you in thirty shillings a week.
If you want to set up as an independent gentleman now's the time to
begin."

A sudden look of surprised dismay spread itself across Bugg's
square-jawed face.

"Meanin' I got the chuck, sir?" he inquired dully.

Tony laughed.  "Of course not," he said.  "Don't be an ass, Bugg.  I
was only pointing out to you that if you like to set up on your own
you can afford to do it.  I'll go on backing you as long as you want
me to, but you needn't feel bound to stop on here if you'd rather
clear out.  It's not much of a job for a budding champion of England
with fifteen hundred pounds in the bank."

Bugg gave an audible sigh of relief.

"I thought you was 'andin' me the bird, sir," he observed.  "Give me
a proper turn it did, jest for the minit."

"Then you don't want to go?"

Bugg laughed, almost contemptuously.

"Where'd I go to, sir?" he demanded.  "'Ow long would that fifteen
'undred last if I was knockin' arahnd on me own with every flash cove
in London 'avin' a cut at it?  'Sides, that, sir, I don't want
nothin' different.  I wouldn't change the job I got, not to be King
of England.  If it weren't for you I'd be 'awkin' welks now, or
fightin' in a booth, an' Tiger Bugg ain't the sort to forget a thing
like that.  Wen you don't want me no more, sir, jest you tip me the
orfice straight and proper and I'll 'op it, but so long as there's
any bloomin' thing I can do for you, sir, well, 'ere I am and 'ere I
means to stop."

It was the longest speech that Tiger Bugg had ever indulged in, and
certainly the most eloquent.  Tony, who was genuinely touched by the
obvious sincerity with which it was uttered, stepped forward and
patted the lad on his shoulder.

"That's all right, Tiger," he said.  "There will always be a job for
you here if it's only to annoy my relations."  He paused and lighted
himself another cigarette.  "Give us a bit of your best to-night," he
added.  "I should like to make Da Freitas look silly, and if you win
easily, Donaldson has practically promised me a match for the
Lonsdale Belt."

Bugg's eyes gleamed, and his hands automatically clenched themselves.

"I'll slip one over the fust chance I get, sir," he observed
earnestly.  "I don't think I'll 'ave to wait long either."

Tony nodded, and gathering up his dressing-gown, turned towards the
door.

"Well, be ready by eight o'clock," he said, "and we'll go down
together in the car."

Leaving the gymnasium he strolled on up the path till it curved round
the corner and opened out into an asphalt yard, where a man in blue
overalls was attending to the toilet of the big Peugot.  He was a
tall, red-haired individual with an expression of incurable
melancholy on his face.

"Good-morning, Jennings," said Tony.  "It's a nice morning, isn't it?"

The chauffeur cast a resentful glance at the unclouded blue overhead.

"It's all right at present, sir," he admitted grudgingly, "but these
here extra fine mornings have a way of turning off sudden."

Tony sauntered up to the car, and lifting the bonnet looked down into
the gleaming network of copper and brass which bore eloquent
testimony to the care and energy expended on it.

"I didn't think she was pulling quite at her best yesterday," he
said.  "You might have a run through and tune her up a bit, when
you've got time."

The chauffeur nodded.  "Once these here big racin' engines begin to
give trouble, sir," he remarked with a sort of gloomy relish, "they
ain't never the same again--not in a manner o' speaking.  Least,
that's how it seems to me."

"That's how it would seem to you, Jennings," said Tony kindly.  "Is
the Suiza all right?"

"She'll run, sir."

"Well, have her ready about one o'clock, and I shall want you and the
Rolls-Royce at eight to-night, to take us down to the Club."  He
paused.  "I suppose you have backed Bugg?" he added.

Jennings shook his head.  "Not me, sir.  I think he's flying too
high, sir.  From all they tell me this here Lopez is a terror.  I'll
be sorry to see Bugg knocked out, but there it is; it comes to all of
'em in time."

"I like talking to you after breakfast, Jennings," said Tony.  "You
cheer one up for the entire day."

Jennings received the compliment with an utterly unmoved expression.
"I don't take much stock in bein' cheerful meself, sir," he observed,
"not unless there's something to be cheerful about."

He stepped forward and resumed his work on the car, and after
watching him for a moment or two with a pleasant languid interest
Tony turned round and sauntered back to the house.

He finished his toilet in a leisurely fashion, and then spent an
agreeable half-hour over the _Sportsman_, which was the only morning
paper that he took in.  Current affairs of a more general nature did
not interest him much, though in times of national or political
crisis it was his habit to borrow the _Daily Mail_ from Spalding.

Soon after one, Jennings brought the Suiza round to the front door,
and a quarter of an hour later Tony turned in through the gateway of
Basil Mansions and drew up alongside the rockery and fountain with
which a romantic landlord had enriched the centre of the courtyard.

Leaving the car there, he strolled across to Molly's flat and rang
the bell.  It was answered almost at once by a neatly dressed French
maid, who conducted him into a bright and daintily furnished room
where Molly was sitting at the piano practising a new song.  She
jumped up gaily directly she saw him.

"Oh, how nice of you, Tony," she exclaimed.  "You are ten minutes
early and I'm fearfully hungry.  Lunch as soon as it's ready,
Claudine."

She gave Tony her hand which he raised gallantly to his lips.

"You are looking very beautiful this morning, Molly," he said.  "You
remind me of one of those things that come out of ponds."

"What do you mean?" asked Molly.  "Frogs?"

"No," said Tony, "not frogs.  Those sort of jolly wet girls with
nothing on; what do you call them--naiads, isn't it?"

Molly burst into a ripple of laughter.  "I don't think that's much of
a compliment to my frock, Tony," she said.  "It was specially
designed for me by Jay's too!  Don't you like it?"

Tony stepped back and inspected her critically.

"It's wonderful," he said.  "I should imagine Mr. Jay was now
prostrate with nervous exhaustion."

"Oh, well," replied Molly comfortingly, "he'll have heaps of time to
recover before he's paid."

The clear note of a silver gong sounded from the passage and she
thrust her arm through Tony's.

"Come along," she said, "there are roast quails and it would be awful
if they got cold, wouldn't it?"

Tony gave a slight shudder.  "There are some tragedies," he said,
"that one hardly likes to think about."

All through lunch, which was daintily served in Molly's pretty, sunny
little dining-room, they chatted away in the easy cheerful fashion of
two people who have no illusions about each other and are yet the
firmest of friends.  The lunch itself was excellent, and Claudine
waited on them with a graceful skill that lent an additional harmony
to its progress.

"I think I am in love with your new maid," observed Tony
thoughtfully, when she at length left them to their coffee and
cigarettes.

"I am glad you approve of her," said Molly, "but if you haven't seen
her before it only shows how disgustingly you must have treated me.
She has been here since Christmas."

"I like her face," pursued Tony.  "It's so pure.  She looks as if she
had been turned out of a convent for being too good."

"She isn't good," said Molly.  "Don't you think it."

"That only makes her all the more wonderful," said Tony.  "To look
good and to be wicked is the ideal combination.  You get the benefits
of both without any of their drawbacks."

"In that case," observed Molly, "I must be dead out of luck.  With my
red hair and red lips I look desperately wicked, while as a matter of
fact I'm quite uninterestingly good--by instinct."  She paused.  "I
want to talk to you about my morals, Tony.  That has been one of the
chief reasons why I asked you to lunch."

Tony poured out a glass of liqueur brandy.  "The morals of Molly," he
remarked contentedly.  "I can't imagine a more perfect subject for an
after-lunch discussion."

Molly lit herself a cigarette and passed him across the little silver
box.  "It's not so much a discussion as an explanation," she said.
"I want to explain Peter."  She sat back in her chair.  "You see,
Tony, you're the only person in the world whose opinion I care a hang
for.  If it hadn't been for you I don't know what would have happened
to me after I ran away from home.  You helped me to get on the stage,
and I don't want you to think I've turned out an absolute rotter.
Oh, I know people have always said horrid things about me, but then
they do that about any girl in musical comedy.  I believe I'm
supposed to have lived with a Rajah and had a black baby, and Lord
knows what else, but as a matter of fact it's all lies and invention.
People talk like that just to appear more in the swim than somebody
else.  Of course I don't mean to say I haven't had lots of kind
offers of that sort, but until Peter came along I'd said 'no' to all
of them."

"What made you pitch on Peter?" asked Tony.

"I don't know," said Molly frankly.  "I think I was sorry for him to
start with.  He's so stupid you know--any one can take him in, and
that little cat Marie d'Estelle was getting thousands out of him and
carrying on all the time with half a dozen other men.  So I thought
I'd just take him away if only to teach her common decency."

"If rumour is correct," observed Tony, "the lesson was not entirely
successful."

Molly laughed.  "Well, that was how the thing started anyway," she
said.  "Peter got awfully keen on me, and after I had seen a little
bit of him and snubbed him rather badly once or twice for being too
affectionate, I really began to get quite fond of him.  You see if he
wasn't a king he'd be a jolly good sort.  There's nothing really the
matter with him except that he's been horribly spoilt.  He isn't a
bit vicious naturally; he only thought he was until he met me.  He is
weak and stupid, of course, but then I like a man not to be too
clever if I am going to have much to do with him.  Stupid men stick
to you, and you can make them do just what you want.  You know Peter
consults me about practically everything."

"And what does Da Freitas think of the situation?" asked Tony mildly.

"Oh, Da Freitas!"  Molly's expression was an answer in itself.  "He
hates me, Tony; he can't stand any one having an influence over Peter
except himself.  He didn't mind d'Estelle and people like that, in
spite of the money they cost, but he would give anything to get rid
of me.  He likes Peter to be weak and dissipated and not to bother
about things, because then he has all the power in his own hands."

"But how is all this going to end, Molly?" asked Tony.  "Suppose
there's another revolution in Livadia, and Peter, as you call him,
has to go back to be King.  It's quite on the cards according to what
one hears."

"Oh, I know," said Molly, shrugging her shoulders, "but what's the
good of worrying?  If they knew Peter as well as I do they wouldn't
be so stupid.  He'd be no earthly use as a king, by himself, and he'd
look too absolutely silly for words with a crown on his head.  As far
as his own private tastes go, he's a lot happier at Richmond.  He
quite sees it too, you know, when I point it out to him, but he says
he wouldn't be able to help himself if there really was a revolution."

"No," said Tony.  "I imagine Da Freitas would see to that.  It will
be a precious cold day when he gets left.  He hasn't schemed and
plotted and kept in with Pedro all this time in order to let the
chance slip when it comes along.  If he isn't back there one day in
his old job of Prime Minister, it won't be the fault of the Marquis
Fernando."

Molly looked pensively into the fire.  "He only makes one mistake,"
she said.  "He's a little too apt to think other people are more
stupid than they are.  I suppose it comes from associating so much
with poor old Peter."




CHAPTER III

TWO YELLOW-FACED FOREIGNERS

Very carefully Tony sprinkled a little Bengal pepper over the
perfectly grilled sole which Spalding had set down in front of him.
Then he returned the bottle to the cruet-stand and looked across the
table at his cousin.

"You really ought to come to-night, Guy," he said.  "It will be a
beautiful fight while it lasts."

Guy Oliver shook his head.  He was a tall, rather gaunt young man
with a pleasant but too serious expression.  "My dear Tony," he
replied, "my tastes may be peculiar, but as I have told you before,
it really gives me no pleasure to watch two lads striking each other
violently about the face and body."

"You were always hard to please," complained Tony sadly.  "Fighting
is one of the few natural and healthy occupations left to humanity."

Guy adjusted his glasses.  "I am not criticizing fighting in its
proper place," he said.  "I think there are times when it may be
necessary and even enjoyable.  All I do object to is regarding it as
a pastime.  There are some things in life that we are not meant to
make a popular spectacle out of.  What would you say if someone
suggested paying people to make love to each other on public
platforms?"

"I should say it would be most exciting," said Tony.  "Especially the
heavy-weight championship."  He poured himself out half a glass of
sherry and held it up to the light.  "Talking of heavy-weights," he
added, "how did you find our dear Cousin Henry?"

"Henry was very well," said Guy.  "He is coming to see you."

Tony put down his glass and surveyed his cousin reproachfully.  "And
you call yourself a secretary and a friend?" he remarked.

"I think it is very good for you to entertain Cousin Henry
occasionally," returned Guy.  "He is an excellent antidote to the
Cosmopolitan Club and Brooklands."  He paused.  "Besides, he has a
suggestion to make with which I am thoroughly in sympathy."

A depressed expression flitted across Tony's face.  "I am sure it has
something to do with my duty," he said.

Guy nodded.  "I wish you would try and look on it in that light.
Henry has put himself to a lot of trouble about it, and he will be
very hurt if you don't take it seriously."

"My dear Guy!" said Tony.  "A proposal of Henry's with which you are
in sympathy couldn't possibly be taken any other way.  What is it?"

"He has set his heart on your going into Parliament as you know.
Well, he told me that last week he had spoken about you to the Chief
Whip, and that they are arranging for you to stand as Government
candidate for Balham North at the next general election."

There was a long pause.

"For where?" inquired Tony faintly.

"For Balham North.  It's a large constituency in South London close
to Upper Tooting."

"It would be," said Tony.  "And may I ask what I have done to deserve
this horrible fate?"

"That's just it," said Guy.  "You haven't done anything.  Henry
feels--indeed we all feel that as head of the family it is quite time
you made a start."

"You don't understand," said Tony with some dignity.  "I am sowing my
wild oats.  It is what every wealthy young baronet is expected to do."

"Leaving out the war," retorted Guy, "you have been sowing them for
exactly six years and nine months."

Tony smiled contentedly.  "I always think," he observed, "that if a
thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well."

There was another pause, while Guy, crumbling a bit of bread between
his fingers, regarded his cousin with a thoughtful scrutiny.

"As far as I can see, Tony," he said, "there is only one thing that's
the least likely to do you any good.  You want a complete change in
your life--something that will wake you up to a sense of duty and
responsibility.  I think you ought to get married."

Tony, who was helping himself to a glass of champagne, paused
abruptly in the middle of that engaging occupation.

"How remarkable!" he exclaimed.  "Only yesterday Aunt Fanny made
exactly the same suggestion.  It must be something in the spring air."

"I don't always agree with Aunt Fanny," said Guy, "but I think that
for once in a way she was giving you excellent advice.  A good wife
would make a tremendous difference in your life."

"Tremendous!" assented Tony with a shudder.  "I should probably have
to give up smoking in bed and come down to breakfast every morning."

"You would be all the better for it," said Guy firmly.  "I was
thinking, however, more of your general outlook on things.  Marriage
with the right woman might make you realize that your position
carries with it certain duties that you ought to regard both as a
privilege and a pleasure."

"Is going into Parliament one of them?" asked Tony.

"Certainly.  As a large landowner you are just the type of man who is
badly wanted in the House of Commons."

"They must be devilish hard up for legislators," said Tony.  "Still,
if you and Henry have made up your minds, I expect I shall have to do
it."  He paused.  "I don't think I should like to be the member for
Balham North though," he added reflectively.  "It sounds like the
sort of place where a chorus girl's mother would live."

Any defence of the constituency which Guy may have had to offer was
cut short by the re-entrance of Spalding.

"The car is at the door, sir," he observed.

"Aren't you going to finish your dinner?" inquired Guy, as Tony
pushed back his chair.

The latter shook his head.  "I never eat much before a fight," he
said.  "It prevents my getting properly excited."  He got up from his
seat.  "Besides," he added, "I always take Bugg round to Shepherd's
after he has knocked out his man, and we celebrate the victory with
stout and oysters.  It's Bugg's idea of Heaven."

He passed out into the hall where Spalding helped him on with his
coat.  Outside the front door stood a beautifully appointed
Rolls-Royce limousine, painted the colour of silver and upholstered
in grey Bedford cord.  Jennings was at the wheel and inside sat Tiger
Bugg and a large red-faced man with little twinkling black eyes.
This latter was Mr. "Blink" McFarland, the celebrated proprietor of
the Hampstead Heath Gymnasium, who acted as Tiger's trainer and
sparring partner.  They both touched their caps as Tony appeared.

"I wouldn't let 'im get out, sir," observed McFarland in a gruff
voice.  "Might 'a took a chill hangin' around."

"Quite right, Blink," replied Tony gravely.  "Lopez isn't to be
sneezed at even by a future champion."

He lit himself a cigarette, and stepping inside closed the door
behind him.  Spalding made a signal to Jennings and the big car slid
off noiselessly down the drive.

Tony turned to Bugg.  "Feeling all right?" he inquired.

The young prize-fighter grinned amiably.  "Fine, sir, thank ye, sir."

With an affectionate gesture, McFarland laid an enormous mottled hand
on his charge's knee.  "He's fit to jump out of 'is skin, sir; you
take it from me.  If he don't knock two sorts of blue 'ell out of
that dirty faced dago I'll give up trainin' fighters and start
keepin' rabbits."

"Lopez is supposed to have a bit of a punch himself, isn't he?"
inquired Tony.

McFarland made a hoarse rumbling noise which was presumably intended
for a laugh.

"All the better for us, sir.  The harder 'e hits the more 'e'll hurt
hisself.  It's a forlorn jog punchin' Tiger.  You might as well kick
a pavin' stone."

Bugg, who was evidently susceptible to compliments, blushed like a
schoolgirl, and then to cover his confusion turned an embarrassed
gaze out of the window.  The long descent of Haverstock Hill was
flying past at a rare pace, for whatever might be Jenning's
shortcomings as a cheerful companion he could certainly drive a car.
Indeed it could scarcely have been more than ten minutes from the
moment they left the Heath, until, with a loud blast from the horn,
they glided round the corner of the street into Covent Garden.

The pavement and roadway in front of the Cosmopolitan were filled by
the usual rough-looking crowd that invariably congregates outside the
Club on the occasion of a big fight.  With surprising swiftness,
however, a space was cleared for Tony's car, and as its three
occupants stepped out, a hoarse excited buzz of "That's 'im! that's
Tiger!" rose up all round them.

Bugg and McFarland hurried through into the Club; Tony stopping
behind for a moment to give some directions to Jennings.

"You can put the car up at the R.A.C.," he said.  "I'll telephone
over when I want you."

He followed the others across the pavement, amid encouraging
observations of, "Good-luck, me lord!" and one or two approving pats
on the back from hearty if not overclean hands.

Bugg and his trainer had of course gone direct to their
dressing-room, where Tony made no attempt to pursue them.  He knew
that Tiger's preparations were safe in McFarland's hands, so
relinquishing his coat to one of the hall porters, he walked straight
through to the big gymnasium where the Club contests were held.

It was an animated scene that met his eyes as he entered.  A
preliminary bout was in progress and round the raised and roped dais
in the centre, with its blinding glare of light overhead, sat a
thousand or fifteen hundred of London's most eminent "sportsmen."
They were nearly all in evening dress: the dazzling array of white
shirt fronts and diamond studs affording a vivid testimony to the
interest taken in pugilism by the most refined and educated classes.

As soon as the round was ended, Tony made his way slowly towards his
seat by the ring-side, exchanging innumerable greetings as he passed
along.  Almost everybody seemed to know him, and he seemed to have a
smile and a cheery word for them all.

A few yards from his destination he came across the Marquis da
Freitas.  That distinguished statesman was seated in the front row of
chairs enjoying a big cigar, while beside him lounged a dark,
squarely built, rather coarse-featured youth, who greeted Tony with
an affable if slightly condescending wave of his hand.  The latter
was none other than His Majesty King Pedro the Fifth, the rightful
though temporarily discarded ruler of Livadia.

Tony pulled up at this mark of Royal recognition and shook hands with
the Marquis and his monarch.  It was understood that on such
occasions as the present the ex-king preferred to be regarded as an
ordinary member of the Club.

"Everything is good I hope," he observed to Tony.  "Your man he is up
to the scratch--eh?"

He spoke English confidently, but with a marked foreign accent.

"Rather," said Tony.  "Never been fitter in his life.  No excuses if
we're beaten."

Da Freitas blew out a philosophic puff of smoke.  "Ah, Sir Antony,"
he observed, "that is one of your national virtues.  You are good
losers, you English.  Perhaps you do not feel defeat as deeply as
Southerners."

"Perhaps not," admitted Tony cheerfully.  "Anyhow, it's not much good
making a song about things, is it?  One's bound to strike a snag
occasionally."

The Marquis nodded.  "In Livadia," he said softly, "we do not like to
be beaten.  We----"

There was a loud _tang_ from the gong and the two boxers sprang up
out of their respective corners to resume the fight.  With a gesture
of apology Tony moved along to his seat, where he found himself next
to "Doggy" Donaldson, who was discharging his customary rôle of
Master of the Ceremonies.  He welcomed Tony with a grip of the hand.

"Glad you've turned up," he said.  "I never feel really happy till
both parties are in the Club.  All serene?"

"As far as we're concerned," replied Tony.

Donaldson rubbed his hands.  "That's good," he observed contentedly.
"We'll have 'em in the ring by nine-thirty at latest.  That'll just
give us time to--Hullo!  Look at that!  Damned if Young Alf isn't
chucking it."

One of the two contesting youths had suddenly stepped back and held
out his hand to his opponent.  He had just received a severe dig in
the stomach, which had apparently convinced him for the moment that
boxing was an unfriendly and over-rated amusement.

With a grunt of disgust at such pusillanimity Donaldson clambered up
into the ring, and in a stentorian voice announced the name of the
winner.  He then introduced two more lithe-limbed active-looking
lads, who promptly set about the task of punching each other's heads
with refreshing accuracy and vigour.

It was about a quarter-past nine when this bout came to an end, and
preparations were begun for the principal event.  Two buckets of
clean water were brought in, and a large cardboard box containing a
couple of new pairs of boxing-gloves was deposited in the centre of
the ring.  Then, while a truculent looking gentleman in flannel
trousers and a sweater strolled about crushing lumps of resin beneath
his feet, Doggy Donaldson again hoisted himself into the roped
square, and held up his hand for silence.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I have the pleasure to announce that the
Committee has decided to match the winner of to-night's contest
against Jack Rivers, the holder of the Lonsdale Welter Weight Belt."

The applause that greeted this statement had scarcely died away, when
a louder and more enthusiastic outburst proclaimed the appearance of
the boxers.  They came on from different sides of the building each
with a small army of seconds in attendance.  Climbing up into
opposite corners of the ring they bowed their acknowledgments to the
audience, and then, after carefully rubbing their feet in the resin,
seated themselves on the small stools that had been placed in
readiness.

A number of lengthy preliminaries followed.  The bandages that each
man wore on his hands were gravely inspected by one of his rival's
seconds, while another opened the cardboard box, and selected one of
the two pairs of gloves for his principal.  They were nice-looking
gloves, but to the casual observer they would have appeared to be
constructed more for the purpose of conforming to the law than of
really deadening the effect of a blow.  By dint of much pulling and
straining, however, each boxer managed to get them on, and then sat
with a dressing-gown over his shoulders while "Doggy" Donaldson made
the inevitable introductions.

"Gentlemen!  A twenty three-minute round contest between 'Lightning'
Lopez of Livadia on my right, and 'Tiger' Bugg of Hampstead on my
left.  The bout will be refereed by Mr. 'Dick' Fisher."

An elderly man in evening dress with a weather-beaten face, hard blue
eyes, and a chin like the toe of a boot stepped up alongside the
speaker and jerked his head at the audience.  He was an ex-amateur
champion of England, and one of the best judges of boxing in the
world.

The gong sounded as a signal to clear the ring, and the cluster of
seconds each side made a leisurely exit through the ropes.  For a
moment the two boxers were left sitting on their respective stools
facing each other across the brilliantly lighted arena.  Then came
another clang, and with a simultaneous movement they leaped lightly
to their feet, and advanced swiftly but cautiously towards the centre.

To any one sufficiently pagan to admire the human form they made a
pleasing and effective picture.  Both nude, except for a pair of very
short blue trunks, they moved forward with the lithe grace of a
couple of young panthers.  Under the pitiless glare of the big arc
lamps the rippling muscles on their backs and shoulders were plainly
visible.  Bugg's white skin stood out in dazzling contrast to the
swarthy colour of his opponent, but as far as bodily perfection went
there seemed to be nothing to choose between them.

For a few seconds they circled stealthily round the ring sparring for
an opening.  Lopez, who had adopted a slightly crouching pose, was
the more aggressive of the two.  He was famed for the fierce
impetuousness of his methods, and on his last appearance at the Club
he had signalized the occasion by knocking out his adversary in the
second round.

In the present instance, however, he appeared to be a little at a
loss.  There was nothing very unusual to the eye about Bugg's style,
but the almost contemptuous ease with which he brushed aside a couple
of lightning-like left leads was distinctly disconcerting to his
opponent.

Realizing apparently that as far as quickness and skill went he had
met more than his match, the Livadian evidently decided that his
usual robust tactics might be the most effective.  He drew back a
pace, and then slightly dropping his head, sprang in with the vicious
fury of a wildcat, hitting out fiercely with both hands.

The suddenness of the attack would have taken most boxers by
surprise, but that embarrassing emotion appeared to have no place in
Bugg's philosophy.  With the swiftness of light he stepped to one
side, and just as the human battering ram in front of him hurled
itself forward, he brought up his right hand in a whizzing upper cut
that caught his adversary under the angle of the jaw.  The blow was
so perfectly timed and delivered with such tremendous force that it
lifted Lopez clean off his feet.  With his arms flung out wide each
side of him he made a sort of convulsive jerk into the air, and then
crashed over backwards on to the floor, where he lay a huddled and
inert mass.

For an instant the whole house remained hushed in a stupefied
silence.  Then as the time-keeper began to count off the fateful
seconds a sudden hoarse roar broke out all over the building.  Above
the din could be heard the voices of Lopez' seconds, howling abuse
and entreaty at their unconscious principal.  In vain the referee
waved his arms, entreating some sort of order for the count.

"Doggy" Donaldson clutched Tony by the wrist.  "Damn it!" he shouted
excitedly, "I believe he's broken his neck."

Even as he spoke came the clang of the time-keeper's gong, signifying
that the ten seconds had passed.  In a moment half a dozen figures
were swarming over the ropes, but before any one of them could reach
him, Bugg had picked up his limp, unconscious adversary in his arms,
and was carrying him across the ring to his own corner.  He seemed to
be by far the coolest and most collected person present.

Almost immediately Tony became the centre of a number of friends and
acquaintances who were wringing his hand and congratulating him on
the victory.  After a minute or two he managed to free himself, and
pushing his way through to the ringside, inquired anxiously after the
health of the unfortunate Lopez.  "Doggy" Donaldson, who was amongst
the crowd surrounding that fallen warrior, bent down with an air of
considerable relief upon his honest countenance.

"It's all right," he said, "the beggar's coming round.  I really
thought for a moment he was a goner though.  Gad, what a kick that
boy of yours has got!"

"Well, I'm glad it's no worse," said Tony.

The other nodded.  "Yes," he observed, "we must all be thankful for
that.  It would have been a rotten thing for the Club if he'd broken
his neck."

He turned away, and following suit, Tony suddenly found himself face
to face with the Marquis da Freitas, and his royal master, who had
apparently stepped forward in order to learn the news.  The Marquis
appeared as suave as ever, but anything more sulky looking than His
Majesty it would have been difficult to imagine.

Da Freitas bowed with the faintest ironical exaggeration.  "Permit me
to congratulate you, Sir Antony.  Your victory is indeed crushing."

Tony regarded him with his usual amiable smile.  "Thanks," he said.
"I am awfully glad your man isn't seriously hurt.  It was bad luck
his running into a punch like that."  He turned to Pedro.  "You can
have a return match you know any time, if you care about it."

His Majesty scowled.  "I will see him dead before I back him again,"
he observed bitterly.

The Marquis da Freitas showed his white teeth in a polite smile.  "I
fear you are rather too strong for us in the boxing-ring, Sir Antony.
Perhaps some day we may find a more favourable battle-ground."

"I hope so," said Tony.  "I rather like having a shade of odds
against me.  It's so much more interesting."

He nodded cheerfully to the pair of them, and moving off from the
ring-side began to make his way across the hall.  It was slow work,
for friends kept on pulling him up with boisterous words of
congratulation, while several of them made strenuous endeavours to
persuade him to join a party at some neighbouring night club, to
which they were going on for supper.

Tony, however, declined the invitation on the plea of a previous
engagement.  As he had told Guy at dinner it was his invariable
custom after a successful fight to take Bugg out to Shepherd's, the
celebrated oyster bar in Coventry Street--a resort much frequented by
gentlemen of pugilistic and sporting tastes.  The simple-minded Tiger
had not many weaknesses, but on these occasions it afforded him such
extreme pleasure to be seen therewith his patron, that Tony wouldn't
have missed gratifying him for the most festive supper party in
London.

On reaching the dressing-room he found Bugg fully clothed and in the
centre of a small levee of pressmen and fellow pugilists.  McFarland,
immensely in his element, was dispensing champagne to the visitors,
and explaining how very lately his own unrivalled training methods
had contributed to the result.

Tony stopped and chatted amiably for a few minutes until he could
manage to extract Bugg from the centre of his admirers.  When at last
they succeeded in getting away they slipped out quietly by the side
door of the Club in order to avoid the crowd who were still hanging
about the front, and with a breath of relief found themselves in the
cool night air of Long Acre.

Tony lit a cigarette and offered one to his companion.

"You positively surpassed yourself to-night, Bugg," he said.  "The
worst of it is that if you go on improving in this way, I shall have
to find a new profession.  No one will dare to bet against you."

"I 'ope I didn't shove it across 'im too sudden, sir?" inquired Bugg
anxiously.  "You said you was in a hurry."

"It was perfect," said Tony.  "The only person who had any complaint
to make was King Pedro."

Bugg sniffed contemptuously.  "'E ain't much of a king, sir.  I don't
wonder they give 'im the chuck.  A real king wouldn't taike on abaht
droppin' a few quids."

"I daresay you're right," said Tony.  "A certain recklessness in
finance----"

He suddenly pulled up and for a moment remained where he was, staring
across the street.  On the opposite pavement, in the bright circle of
light thrown by one of the big electric standards, he had caught
sight of the figure of a girl, who at that distance reminded him
curiously of Molly Monk.  She had apparently just come out of the
entrance to some flats above, and with a bag in her hand she was
standing there in an uncertain, indefinite sort of way, as though she
scarcely knew what to do next.

Realizing that it couldn't be Molly, who was of course at the
theatre, Tony was just about to move on again, when something checked
him.

Two well-dressed men in dark overcoats and soft hats had suddenly
appeared out of the shadow ahead and advanced quickly to where the
girl was standing.  For an instant they all three remained facing
each other under the light, and then taking off his hat, one of them
addressed her.

With a little frightened gesture the girl shrank back against the
wall, where she glanced wildly round as though seeking for some means
of escape.  The man who had spoken followed her forward, his hat
still in his hand, apparently making an effort to reassure her.

Tony turned to Bugg.  "We really can't allow this sort of thing in
Long Acre," he observed.  "It has always been a most respectable
street."

He threw away his cigarette, and followed by the future champion of
England started off briskly across the road.

On hearing their footsteps the two men spun round with some
abruptness.  They were both obviously foreigners, and the sight of
their sallow faces and black moustaches filled Tony with a pleasant
sense of patriotic morality.

Without paying any attention to either of them he walked straight up
to the girl, and taking off his hat made her a slight bow.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but from the other side of the road it
looked as if these gentlemen were annoying you.  Can I be of any
assistance?"

She gazed up at him with grateful eyes.  At close quarters her
resemblance to Molly, though still remarkable, was not quite so
convincing.  She was a little younger and slighter, and there was a
delicate air of distinction about her that was entirely her own.

"Oh, if you would be so kind," she said in a delightfully soft voice.
"I do not wish to speak with these men.  If you could send them
away--right away----"

"Why, of course," replied Tony with his most cheerful smile, "please
don't distress yourself."

He turned to the two sallow-faced strangers who seemed to have been
utterly disconcerted by his sudden appearance on the scene.

"Go away," he said, "and hurry up about it."




CHAPTER IV

LIKE A FAIRY STORY

There was a short pause, and then the shorter of the two men stepped
forward.  He was an aggressive looking person with a cast in his eye,
and he spoke with a slight foreign accent.

"Sir," he said, "you are making a mistake.  We do not intend any
insult to this lady.  We are indeed her best friends.  If you will be
good enough to withdraw----"

With the gleam of battle in his eye, Bugg ranged up alongside the
speaker, and tapped him on the elbow.

"'Ere!" he observed.  "You 'eard wot the guv'nor said, didn't you?"
He jerked his thumb over his left shoulder.  "'Op it before you get
'urt."

Tony turned to the girl.  "You mustn't be mixed up in a street
fight," he said.  "If you will allow me to see you to a taxi, my
friend here will prevent these unpleasant looking people from
following us."

He offered her his arm, and after a second's hesitation she laid a
small gloved hand upon his sleeve.

"It is very kind of you," she faltered.  "I fear I am going to give
you a great deal of trouble."

"Not a bit," replied Tony.  "I love interfering in other people's
affairs."

With a swift stride the cross-eyed gentleman thrust himself across
their path.

"No, no!" he exclaimed vehemently.  "You must not listen to this man.
You----"

With a powerful thrust of his disengaged arm Tony sent him staggering
back to the edge of the pavement, where he stumbled over the curb and
sat down heavily in the gutter.

His companion, seeing his fall, gave a guttural cry of anger and
lifting the light stick that he was carrying lashed out savagely at
Bugg.  As coolly as if he were in the ring the latter ducked under
the blow, and coming up with a beautiful straight left knocked his
assailant spinning against the lamp-post.

[Illustration: Tony sent the fellow staggering back to the edge of
the pavement.  His companion lashed out savagely at Bugg.  The latter
ducked under the blow, and coming up with a beautiful straight left,
knocked his assailant spinning.  Tony turned again to the girl.  "I
am afraid we must tear ourselves away," he remarked.  "We shall have
half London here in a moment."]

Tony turned again to the girl at his side.  "I am afraid we must tear
ourselves away," he remarked.  "We shall have half London here in a
moment."

Already from down the street came the shrill blast of a whistle,
followed a moment later by the sound of running footsteps.  Heedless
of these warnings the two strangers, now apparently reckless with
fury, were collecting themselves for a fresh attack.

"Keep them busy, Bugg," said Tony quietly; and the next instant he
and the girl were hurrying along the pavement in the direction of
Martin's Lane.  That fairly prosperous thoroughfare was only a few
yards' distant, but before they could reach it the sounds of a
magnificent tumult broke out again behind them.  The girl glanced
nervously over her shoulder, and her grip on Tony's arm tightened.

"Oh!" she gasped, "oughtn't we to go back?  Your friend will be hurt!"

Tony laughed reassuringly.  "If any one's hurt," he observed, "it's
much more likely to be one of the other gentlemen."

They rounded the corner, and as they did so a disengaged taxi came
bowling opportunely up the street.  Tony signalled to the driver to
stop.

"Here we are!" he said.

A look of frightened dismay leaped suddenly into his companion's
pretty face.

"What's the matter?" asked Tony.

"I--I forgot," she stammered.  "I can't take a taxi.  I--I haven't
any money with me."

There was a moment's pause, while the driver bent forward from his
box listening with interest to the spirited echoes from Long Acre.

"That's all right," remarked Tony.  "We will talk about it in the
cab."  He turned to the driver.  "Take us to Verrier's," he said.  It
was the first place that happened to come into his head.

The man jerked his head in the direction of the noise.  "Bit of a
scrap on from the sound of it, sir!" he observed.

Tony nodded.  "Yes," he said regretfully, "it's a quarrelsome world."

He helped his companion into the taxi, and then following himself,
shut the door.  The vehicle started off with a jerk, and as it swung
round the corner into Coventry Street, its occupants were able to
catch a momentary glimpse of the spot they had so recently quitted.
It appeared to be filled by a small but animated crowd, in the centre
of which a cluster of whirling figures was distinctly visible.  Tony
heard the girl beside him give a faint gasp of dismay.

"It's all right," he said.  "Bugg's used to fighting.  He likes it."

She looked up at him anxiously.  "He is a soldier?" she asked, in
that soft attractive voice of hers.

Tony suppressed a laugh just in time.  "Something of the sort," he
answered.  Then with a pleasant feeling that the whole adventure was
becoming rather interesting he added: "I say, I have told the man to
drive us to Verrier's.  I hope if you aren't in a hurry you will be
charitable and join me in a little supper--will you?  I'm simply
starving."

By the light of a passing street lamp he suddenly caught sight of the
troubled expression that had come into her eyes.

"Do just what you like, of course," he added quickly.  "If you would
rather I drove you straight home----"

"As a matter of fact," said the girl with a sort of desperate
calmness.  "I haven't a home to go to."

There was another brief pause.  "Well, in that case," remarked Tony
cheerfully, "there is no possible objection to our having a little
supper--is there?"

For a moment she stared out of the window without replying.  It was
plain that she was the prey of several contradictory emotions, of
which a vague restless fear seemed to be the most prominent.

"I don't know what to do," she said unhappily.  "You are very kind,
but----"

"There is only one possible thing to do," interrupted Tony firmly,
"and that is to come to Verrier's.  We can discuss the next step when
we get there."

Even as he spoke the taxi swerved across the road, and drew up in
front of the famous underground restaurant.

Before getting out the girl threw a quick hunted glance from side to
side of the street.  "Do you think either of those men have followed
us?" she whispered.

Tony shook his head comfortingly.  "From what I know of Bugg," he
said, "I should regard it as highly improbable."

He settled up with the driver, and then strolling across the
pavement, rejoined the girl, who was waiting for him just outside the
entrance.  She had evidently made a great effort to recover her
self-composure, for she looked up at him with a brave if slightly
forced smile.

"I must make myself tidy," she said, "if you won't mind waiting a
minute.  I am simply not fit to be seen."

The statement appeared to be exaggerated to Tony, but he allowed it
to pass unchallenged.

"Please don't hurry," he said.  "I want to use the telephone, and if
I finish first I can brood over what we'll have for supper."

She smiled again--this time more naturally, and taking the
dressing-bag that he had been carrying for her, disappeared into the
cloak-room.  Tony abandoned his hat and coat to a waiter, and then
sauntering forward, entered the restaurant.

The moment he appeared the manager, who was standing on the other
side of the room, hastened across to greet him.

"Bon soir, Sir Antony," he observed with that dazzling smile of
welcome that managers only produce for their most wealthy customers.
"May I 'ave ze pleasiare of finding you a table."

Tony nodded indulgently.  "You may, Gustave," he said: "A table for
two with flowers on it, and as far away from the band as possible."
He paused.  "Also," he added, "I want a really nice little supper.
Something with imagination about it.  The sort of supper that you
would offer to an angel if you unexpectedly found one with an
appetite."

The manager bowed with a gesture of perfect comprehension.

"And while you are wrestling with the problem," said Tony, "I should
like to use the telephone if I may."

He was shown into the private office, where, in response to polite
and repeated requests, a lady at the Exchange eventually found
leisure to connect him with Shepherd's Oyster Bar.

"Is Mr. 'Tiger' Bugg there?" he inquired.

The man who had answered the call departed to have a look round, and
then returned with the information that so far Mr. Bugg had not put
in an appearance.

"Well, if he does come," said Tony, "will you tell him for me--Sir
Antony Conway--that I shall not be able to join him.  He can pick up
the car at the R.A.C."

The man promised to deliver the message, and ringing off, Tony
strolled back through the restaurant to the place where he had parted
from his charming if slightly mysterious companion.  He met her just
coming out of the cloak-room.

"Oh, I hope I haven't kept you very long," she said penitently.

Tony looked down into the clear amber eyes that were turned up to his
own, and thought that she was even prettier than he had at first
imagined.

"I have only just this moment finished telephoning," he said.  "The
Central Exchange are like the gods.  They never hurry."

She laughed softly, and then, as the waiter on duty opened the door
with a low bow, they walked forward into the restaurant.

M. Gustave, more affable than ever, came up to conduct them to their
table.

At the sight of the charming arrangement in maidenhair and narcissi
which decorated the centre, the girl gave a little exclamation of
pleasure.

"But how beautiful!" she said.  "I never knew English restaurants----"

She stopped short as though she suddenly thought the remark were
better unfinished.

Tony took no notice of her slight embarrassment.  "I am glad you like
flowers," he said.  "It's such a nice primitive, healthy taste.
Since Mr. Chamberlain died I believe I am the only person in London
who still wears a button-hole."

They sat down on opposite sides of the table, and for the first time
he was able to enjoy a complete and leisurely survey of his companion.

She was younger than he had thought at first--a mere girl of
seventeen or eighteen--with the complexion of a wild rose, and the
lithe, slender figure of a forest dryad.  It was her red hair and the
little firm, delicately moulded chin which gave her that curious
superficial resemblance to Molly which had originally attracted his
attention.  He saw now that there were several differences between
them--one of the most noticeable being the colour of their eyes.
Molly's were blue--blue as the sky, while this girl's were of clear
deep amber, like the water of some still pool in the middle of a
moorland stream.

What charmed him most of all, however, was the faint air of sensitive
pride that hung about her like some fragrant perfume.  Although
obviously frightened and apparently in a very awkward predicament,
she was yet facing the situation with nervous thoroughbred courage
that filled Tony with admiration.

One thing struck him as rather incongruous.  She had said she had no
money, and yet even to his masculine eyes it was quite clear that the
clothes she was wearing, though simple in appearance, could have been
made by a most expensive dressmaker.  On the little finger of her
left hand he also noticed a sapphire and diamond ring which if real
must be of considerable value.  All this combined to fill him with an
agreeable and stimulating curiosity.

"I hope you are feeling none the worse for our wild adventures," he
said, as the waiter withdrew, after handing them the first course.

She shook her head.  "You have been extraordinarily kind," she said
in a low voice.  "I have a great deal to thank you for.  I--I hardly
know how to begin."

"Well, suppose we begin by introducing ourselves," he suggested
cheerfully.  "My name is Conway--Sir Antony Conway.  My more intimate
friends are occasionally permitted to call me Tony."

She hesitated a second before replying.  "My name is Isabel," she
said.  "Isabel Francis," she added a little lamely.

"I shall call you 'Isabel' if I may," said Tony.  "'Miss Francis'
sounds so unromantic after the thrilling way in which we became
friends."

He paused until the waiter, who had bustled up again with a bottle of
champagne had filled their respective glasses and retired.

"And as we have become friends," he continued, "don't you think you
can tell me how you have managed to get yourself into this--what
shall we call it--scrape?  I am not asking just out of mere
curiosity.  I should like to help you if I can.  You see I am always
in scrapes myself, so I might be able to give you some good advice."

The gleam of fun in his eyes, and the friendly way in which he spoke,
seemed to take away much of his companion's nervousness.  She sipped
her champagne, looking at him over the top of the glass with a
simple, almost childish gratitude.

"You have been kind and nice," she said frankly.  "I don't know what
I should have done if you hadn't been there."  She put down her
glass.  "You see," she went on in a slower and more hesitating way,
"I--I came up to London this evening to stay with an old governess of
mine who has a flat in Long Acre.  When I got there I found she had
gone away, and then I didn't know what to do, because I hadn't
brought any money with me."

"Wasn't she expecting you?" asked Tony.

Miss "Isabel Francis" shook her head.  "No-o," she admitted.  "You
see I hadn't time to write and tell her I was coming."  She paused.
"I--I left home rather in a hurry," she added naïvely.

Tony leaned back in his chair and looked at her with a smile.  He was
enjoying himself immensely.

"And our two yellow-faced friends in evening-dress," he asked.  "Were
they really old acquaintances of yours?"

The frightened, hunted look flashed back into her eyes.  "No, no,"
she said quickly.  "I had never seen them before in my life.  I had
just left the flats when they came up and spoke to me.  They were
both strangers--quite absolutely strangers."

She spoke eagerly, as though specially anxious that her words should
carry conviction, but somehow or other Tony felt a little sceptical.
He couldn't forget the fierce persistence of the two men, which
seemed quite out of keeping with the idea that they had been
interrupted in a mere piece of wanton impertinence.  Besides, if what
she said about them were true it would hardly account for her
unreasoning terror that they might have followed her to the
restaurant.  Being polite by nature, however, he was careful to show
no sign of doubting her statement.

He allowed the waiter to help them both to some attractive looking
mystery in aspic, and then, when they were again alone, he leaned
forward and observed with sympathy:

"Well, I'm glad we happened to roll up at the right time.  It's
always jolly to give that sort of gentlemen a lesson in manners."  He
paused.  "Have you made any kind of plans about what you are going to
do next?"

She shook her head.  "I--I haven't quite decided," she said.  "I
suppose I must find some place to stay at until Miss Watson comes
back."

"How long will that be?"

"I don't know.  You see she has just gone away and shut up the flat,
and left no address."

"Haven't you any other friends in London?"

She shook her head again.  "Nobody," she said, "at least nobody who
could help me."  Then she hesitated.  "I have lived in Paris nearly
all my life," she added by way of explanation.

There was a brief silence.

"If you will forgive my mentioning such a sordid topic," remarked
Tony pleasantly, "what do you propose to do about money?"

"I can get some money to-morrow," she answered.  "I can sell some
jewellery--this ring for instance--and there are other things in my
bag."

"And to-night?"

She glanced round rather desperately.  "I don't know.  I must go
somewhere.  I was thinking that perhaps I could sit in one of the
churches--or there might be a convent--"  She broke off with a little
glance, as if appealing to Tony for his advice.

"Why not go to a hotel?" he suggested.  "If you will allow me, I will
lend you some money, and you can pay me back when it's convenient."

She flushed slightly.  "Oh!" she stammered, "you are so kind.
Perhaps if I could find some quite quiet place--"  She stopped again,
but looking at her, Tony could see the old hunted expression still
lurking in her eyes.  Somehow he felt certain that she was thinking
about the two strangers.

A sudden brilliant idea suggested itself to him.  "Look here!" he
exclaimed.  "How would this do?  My butler's wife--Mrs. Spalding--has
got a small house just off Heath Street, Hampstead.  I know she lets
rooms and I am pretty nearly sure that just at present there is no
one there.  Why shouldn't we run up in the car and have a look at the
place?  She could fix you up for the night anyway, and if you find
you like it you can stay on there till your Miss--Miss Thingumbob
comes back."

A naturally distrustful nature was evidently not one of Isabel's
characteristics, for she received the proposal with the most frank
and genuine gratitude.

"Oh!" she cried, "that would be nice!  But won't she be asleep by
now?"

"It doesn't matter if she is," said Tony tranquilly.  "We will pick
up Spalding on the way and take him round with us to rout her out.
If she feels peevish at being waked up, she can let the steam off on
him first."

He beckoned to the waiter and asked that accomplished henchman to
ring up the R.A.C. and instruct Jennings to bring the car round to
Verrier's.

"And find out," he added, "whether 'Tiger' Bugg has turned up there
or not."

The waiter departed on his mission, coming back in a few minutes with
the information that the car would be round at once, and that so far
Mr. 'Tiger' Bugg had neither been seen nor heard of.

"I wonder where he can be," said Tony to his companion.  "He can't
possibly have taken all this time to slaughter a couple of dagoes.  I
am afraid the police must have interfered."

The suggestion seemed to fill Isabel with a certain amount of dismay.

"The police!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands.  "Oh, but I hope
not.  He is so brave he would have fought with them, and perhaps they
may have killed him."

The picture of a desperately resisting Bugg being hacked to pieces on
the pavement by infuriated bobbies appealed hugely to Tony's sense of
humour.

"I don't think it's likely," he said in a reassuring tone.  "The
English police as a whole are very good-natured.  They seldom take
life except in self-defence."

He added one or two other items of information with regard to Bugg's
hardihood and fertility of resource, which seemed to comfort Isabel,
and then, with the latter's permission, he lighted a cigarette and
called for his bill.

He was just settling it when news came that the car had arrived.  He
instructed the waiter to place Isabel's bag inside, and then bidding
good-night to the bowing and valedictory M. Gustave, they walked
upstairs to the entrance.

They found the big gleaming Rolls-Royce drawn up by the curb with
Jennings standing in a joyless attitude at the door.  When his glance
fell on Isabel he looked more pessimistic than ever.

"Any news of Bugg?" inquired Tony.

The chauffeur shook his head.  "Not a word, sir."

"I left a message at Shepherd's that he was to come and pick you up
at the Club.  I wonder what's happened to him."

For a moment Jennings brooded darkly over the problem.  "Perhaps he
got some internal injury in the fight and was took sudden with it in
the street," he suggested.  "I could run round the 'orspitals and
make inquiries if you wished, sir?"

"Thank you, Jennings," said Tony.  "You are very helpful; but I think
I should prefer to go back to Hampstead."

"Just as you please, sir," observed Jennings indifferently.

He closed the door after them, and then mounting the driving-seat,
started off along Piccadilly.

Isabel, who had again cast a quick glance out of each window, turned
to Tony with a smile.

"He doesn't seem a very cheerful man, your chauffeur," she said.  "He
has got such a sad voice."

Tony nodded.  "That's the reason I originally engaged him.  I like to
have a few miserable people about the place: they help me to realize
how happy I am myself."

Isabel laughed merrily.  The solution of her difficulties in the way
of a lodging seemed to have taken an immense weight off her spirits,
and in the agreeably shaded light of the big limousine she looked
younger and prettier than ever.  So far his new adventure struck Tony
as being quite the most interesting and promising he had ever
embarked on.

As the car glided on through the depressing architecture of Camden
Town he began to tell her in a cheerful inconsequent sort of fashion
something about his house and general surroundings.  She listened
with the utmost interest, the whole thing evidently striking her as
being highly novel and entertaining.

"And do you live quite by yourself?" she asked.

"Quite," said Tony.  "Except for Spalding and Jennings and Bugg and a
cook and two or three maid-servants and dear old Guy!"

"Who's Guy?" she demanded.

"Guy," he said, "can be best described as being Guy.  In addition to
that he is also my cousin and my secretary."

"Your secretary?" she repeated.  "Why, what does he do?"

"His chief occupation is doing my tenants," said Tony.  "In his spare
time he gives me good advice which I never follow.  You must come to
breakfast to-morrow and make his acquaintance."

The car turned in at the drive gates of "Goodman's Rest," which was
the felicitous name that Tony had selected for his house, and drew up
outside the front entrance.

"I will just see if Spalding has gone to bed," he said to Isabel.
"If not it's hardly worth while your getting out."

He opened the door with his key and entering the hall, which was
lighted softly by concealed electric lamps, pressed a bell alongside
the fireplace.  Almost immediately a door swung open at the back and
Spalding appeared on the threshold.

"Good," said Tony, "I thought you might have turned in."

"I was about to do so, Sir Antony," replied Spalding impassively.
"May I mention how pleased we all were at the news of Bugg's success."

"Oh, you have heard about it!" remarked Tony.  "Is Bugg back then?"

"No, sir.  I took the liberty of ringing up the Cosmopolitan.  The
Cook had a half-crown on, sir, and she was almost painfully anxious
to ascertain the result."

Tony nodded his approval.  "After the way she grilled that sole
to-night," he said, "I would deny her nothing."  He paused.
"Spalding," he added: "are you frightened of your wife?"

"No, sir," replied Spalding.  "At least not more than most husbands,
sir."

"Well, I want you to come and act as my ambassador.  There is a young
lady in the motor outside who is in need of somewhere to sleep and
some kind and sensible person to look after her.  I know Mrs.
Spalding lets rooms, and although it's rather a queer time of night
to receive a new lodger, I thought that if you came and put the case
to her tactfully, she might stretch a point to oblige me."

Spalding's face remained beautifully expressionless.  "I am sure my
wife would do anything to oblige you, sir," he observed.  "If you
will excuse my saying so, you stand very high in her good opinion,
sir."

"Indeed!" said Tony.  "I am afraid you must be an extraordinarily
deceitful husband, Spalding."

The butler bowed.  "I make a point, sir, of only repeating incidents
which seem to me likely to appeal to her."

"A very excellent habit," said Tony gravely.  "Get on your hat and
coat, and we will see how it works out in practice."

A few minutes later, with Spalding sitting on the front seat
alongside of Jennings, they were retracing their way across the
Heath.  On reaching the main thoroughfare they turned up one of the
little steep streets that run off to the right, and came to a halt in
front of an old-fashioned row of small white houses, standing back
behind narrow slips of garden.

Spalding opened the gate for them, and then leading the way up the
path, let them in at the front door with a latch-key.  A feeble
flicker of gas was burning in the hall.

"If you will wait in here, sir," he observed, opening a door on the
right, "I will go upstairs and acquaint my wife with your arrival."

The room he showed them into, though small in size and simply
furnished, was a remarkably pleasant little apartment.  In the first
place, everything was scrupulously clean, and the general impression
of cheerful freshness was heightened by a couple of bowls of
hyacinths in full bloom which stood on a table in the window.

"How does this appeal to the taste of Isabel?" inquired Tony,
lighting himself another cigarette.

"Why it's charming!" she exclaimed.  "I shall be so happy if I can
stay here.  It all seems so free and lovely after--" she checked
herself--"after where I have been living," she finished.

"Well, I hope it will all be up to sample," said Tony, "I can't
imagine Spalding being content with anything second rate--at least
judging by his taste in wine and cigars."  He paused.  "What time
would you like breakfast in the morning?"

"Breakfast?" she repeated.

"I always call it breakfast," explained Tony.  "It is such a much
healthier sounding word than lunch.  Suppose I send the car round for
you about eleven?  Would that be too early?"

She shook her head, smiling.  "I expect I could manage it," she said.
"You see I generally get up at eight o'clock."

"We could have it a little earlier if you like," remarked Tony
unselfishly.

"Oh, no," she answered.  "I shall probably enjoy lying in bed
to-morrow."  Then with a little laugh she added: "But surely I can
walk round.  It's quite a short distance isn't it, and all across the
nice Heath?"

"Just as you like," said Tony.  "I shall send the car any way.  The
morning air is so good for Jennings."

As he spoke there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a
moment later Spalding re-entered the room.

"My wife asks me to say, sir, that she will be very pleased to make
the young lady as comfortable as possible.  She is coming downstairs
herself as soon as we have withdrawn.  Owing to the lateness of the
hour she is slightly--h'm--_en déshabillé_."

"We will retire in good order," said Tony gravely.  Then as Spalding
tactfully left the room he turned to Isabel.

"Good-night, Isabel," he said.  "Sleep peacefully, and don't dream
that you are being chased by yellow-faced strangers."

She gave him her little slim cool hand, and he raised it lightly to
his lips.

"Good-night," she answered, "and thank you, thank you again so much."
Then she paused.  "It's just like a fairy story, isn't it?" she added.

"Just," said Tony with enthusiasm.




CHAPTER V

THE LENIENCY OF JUSTICE

As the clock above the mantelpiece struck eleven, Guy Oliver wiped
his pen and laid it carefully down in front of him.  He was sitting
at a roll-top desk in his office--a room of severely business-like
aspect, chiefly furnished with maps and filing cabinets.

With that systematic deliberation that marked all his movements he
extracted a document from the pigeon-hole in front of him and rising
to his feet walked across to the door.  In the passage outside a
neatly dressed housemaid was engaged in the task of polishing the
banisters.

"Do you know if Sir Antony is up yet, Mary?" he inquired.

"He has been up some little time, sir," answered the girl.  "I
believe you will find him in the study.  I heard him telling Mr.
Spalding to lay breakfast in there, instead of in the dining-room."

With a look of mild surprise upon his face, Guy pursued his way
downstairs.  He crossed the hall, and opening the door of the study
remained for a moment on the threshold, contemplating the scene in
front of him.

A black oak gate-legged table, gleaming with flowers, fruit, and
silver, stood out attractively in the centre of the room, while the
spring sunshine, streaming in through the open French window, bathed
everything in its warm, inspiriting rays.  Tony himself looking
delightfully cool and serene in a perfectly cut grey morning suit,
was lounging on the broad window-seat gazing out into the garden.

He turned round at Guy's entrance.

"Hullo, old chap!" he observed pleasantly: "just out of bed?"

Guy took no notice of this irreverent question.  He advanced to the
table, and adjusting his pince-nez, carefully inspected its contents.

"If you will forgive my saying so, Tony," he remarked, "you are
becoming shamelessly greedy.  Where on earth did you get these
peaches and hothouse grapes from?"

"I sent Jennings into Harrod's for them," answered Tony.  "A little
morning exercise is good for him, and I have a friend coming to
breakfast."

"Oh!" said Guy.  "Any one I know?"

Tony shook his head.  "I don't think so.  In fact we only became
acquainted ourselves last night."

"One of your curious sporting acquaintances, I suppose?" observed Guy
with a faint touch of disapproval.

Tony smiled pensively.  "Yes," he said, "on the whole I think we may
pass the description.  If you will wait and have breakfast with us I
shall be charmed to introduce you."

"Thanks very much," said Guy, "but I had my breakfast a couple of
hours ago.  Besides I am rather busy this morning."  He produced the
paper which he had brought down from the office.  "I wanted to catch
you before you went out, to get you to sign this.  It's the agreement
with Marshall I spoke to you about on Thursday.  You had better look
it through."

Tony pulled a fountain pen out of his inside pocket.  "My dear Guy!"
he said.  "I should never dream of reading a document that you had
passed as accurate.  It would be a reflection on your sobriety."

He scribbled his name in the appointed place and handed the paper
back to his cousin.

"I see in the _Daily Mail_ this morning that Bugg won his fight all
right," remarked the latter.  "What time did you get back?"

"_I_ got back at a most respectable hour," said Tony.  "I am sorry to
say I managed to lose Bugg."

"Lose him!" echoed Guy.

"Yes," said Tony.  "You know how careless I am.  I----"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called out.

The door opened and Spalding advanced with dignity across the
threshold.

"Miss Francis," he announced.

There was a moment's pause and then, looking slightly embarrassed but
most refreshingly beautiful, Isabel appeared in the doorway.

Tony who had jumped to his feet came forward and took her hand.

"Good-morning, Isabel," he said.  "How wonderfully punctual you are!
You must have been very well brought up."

She shook her head, smiling shyly.  "I am afraid it is only because I
am hungry," she said.  "As a rule I am late for everything."

"We ought to get along together famously," replied Tony.  "Let's see,
you don't know Guy yet, do you?  Guy, let me introduce you to Isabel.
I have already acquainted her with some of your better and brighter
qualities."

Guy, whose face was an interesting study in blended emotions, made a
little stiff bow.

"I have been trying to persuade him to stay and have breakfast with
us," proceeded Tony mischievously, "but he says he doesn't care about
my curious sporting friends."

With a spasmodic gesture Guy took a step forward.  "Really I--I
protest," he stammered.  "You mustn't listen to him, Miss Francis.
It is a gross misrepresentation."

"I am quite sure you wouldn't say anything disagreeable, Mr.--Mr.
Guy," replied Isabel consolingly.  "You have much too kind a face."

Guy crimsoned vividly, and with a gentle chuckle Tony relieved Isabel
of her coat.

"Don't you be deceived," he said.  "You should hear the brutal way he
addresses my tenants when they want something done to their houses."

"Oh, do shut up, Tony," remonstrated Guy.

"Aren't you really going to stay to breakfast?" asked Isabel,
inspecting the table.  "There seems to be such a lot for two."

"I--I am afraid I can't," said Guy with some embarrassment.  "I
should be delighted to, but--I have some work I must get done."  He
turned to Tony.  "By the way, there was a note from Henry this
morning saying that if you were going to be at home to-night he would
like to come to dinner.  He wants me to ring him up and let him know."

"I suppose we may as well get it over," said Tony sadly.  "If I say
no he will only want me to dine at Rutland Gate, and that would be
worse still.  The last time I went I was put next to a woman who ate
nothing but beans and drank hot water and lemon.  It made me feel
quite faint."

"Very well," said Guy.  "I will tell him to come along at eight.
Don't go out and forget all about it."

He made another stiff little bow to Isabel, and walking across to the
door, took his departure.

"That's Guy," said Tony.  "What do you think of him?"

"I think he's rather nice," said Isabel thoughtfully.  "He is just a
wee bit serious, of course, but then you want that in a secretary,
don't you?"

Tony nodded.  "Guy is wonderful," he began.  "Since he came to live
with me----"

He was interrupted by the reappearance of Spalding, who entered the
room carrying a tray full of silver dishes which sent up various
appetizing odours into the morning air.

Isabel contemplated the feast with frank interest.

"What a good breakfast!" she observed.  "Do you always have a
breakfast like this?"

"Always," replied Tony firmly.  "I find my constitution requires it."

He walked across to the sideboard, where Spalding had set out the
dishes, and lifting up their covers in turn announced the results to
Isabel.

She selected mushroom omelette as a starting point, and after helping
himself lightly to the same delicacy, Tony sat down alongside of her
at the gate-legged table.

"Well," he said, "and what's the report?  Has Mrs. Spalding made you
comfortable?"

Isabel nodded gratefully.  "Yes," she said; "she has been so pleasant
and kind.  She didn't seem to mind in the least my coming in like
that in the middle of the night, and this morning she had a cup of
tea and a lovely hot bath all ready for me when I woke up."  She
paused.  "I don't know what I should have done last night if it
hadn't been for you," she added with a sudden slight return to her
former shyness.

"Oh, you would have been all right," said Tony cheerfully.  "Somebody
else would have come along and knocked those interfering gentlemen
down for you.  London is full of obliging strangers.  We just had the
good luck to be the first--that was all."

"It was not all," returned Isabel with spirit.  "There was the
supper, and finding me somewhere to go to, and asking me to breakfast
this morning, and--and--oh, being so nice about everything."  She
hesitated.  "Your friend--the one who fought for us so bravely--I
hope he was not hurt?"

Tony shook his head.  "You couldn't hurt Bugg," he said, "except with
a pickaxe."

"I hope you told him how grateful I was to him," she added.

"I haven't had the chance yet," replied Tony.  "He hasn't come home."

A sudden look of concern flashed into Isabel's amber eyes.  "Oh!" she
exclaimed, "perhaps he is hurt after all.  Perhaps he is in a
hospital!"

"I should think it much more likely that he's in a police station,"
observed Tony.  "I can't think why he hasn't rung up though, unless
it's because he is anxious to keep my name out of it.  For a
prize-fighter Bugg has the most wonderfully delicate feelings."

"A prize-fighter!" echoed Isabel.  "Is he a prize-fighter
like--like--like Carpentier?"

"Something like him," said Tony; "especially the way he covers up."
He paused.  "Bugg is really quite a famous person in his way you
know.  He is practically the welter-weight champion of England.  He
only stays on here and works for me because it amuses him.  I meant
to explain last night, but there were so many other things to talk
about."

"I see," said Isabel slowly.  "And you were just walking together?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, Bugg had been boxing at the Cosmopolitan
Club.  It was over rather earlier than we expected, and I was taking
him along to give him some supper.  That's how we happened to be in
Long Acre."

Isabel nodded.  "I understand.  It is all plain now.  Last night I
was frightened and everything seemed so confused."

"I don't wonder at it," said Tony sympathetically.  "Unless one's led
a very strenuous life it must be horribly confusing to be suddenly
held up by a couple of dagoes in Long Acre, and then rescued by a
future champion of England."

There was a long pause.

"I--I feel somehow that I ought to explain," began Isabel
uncomfortably.  "You have been so nice about not asking any
questions, but of course you must be wondering who I am, and--and how
things came to be like this."

"Only mildly and pleasantly," said Tony.  "I never allow my curiosity
to get painful."

Isabel set down her cup.  "I would tell you if I could," she said
rather desperately, "but there are reasons why I mustn't."

Tony's face brightened at once.  "How nice!" he observed.  "I love
mystery, and so few people have any of it about them
nowadays--especially in Hampstead."

"I hate it," exclaimed Isabel with what seemed unnecessary
bitterness: "I have had nothing else but mystery and secrets all my
life.  Oh, if you only knew how lovely it was just to be oneself for
once--to be able to do and say exactly what one likes--"  She paused
and took a long, deep breath.  "I can't go back again," she added.
"I--I believe I should kill myself if I did."

"Of course you can't go back," said Tony.  "We settled all that last
night.  You are going to stay on with Mrs. Spalding and adopt me and
Guy as cousins.  I don't think there is any need to let Henry in just
at present.  One would want a bit of practice before adopting Henry."

Isabel looked across at him with that frank, almost childish smile of
hers, which contrasted so delightfully with the little touch of
dignity in her manner.

"I should love to have some nice relations," she said.  "All mine are
perfectly horrid."

"And all mine," observed Tony, "are horribly perfect.  I don't know
which is the more trying of the two."

There was a moment's pause, and then, as if a sudden thought had
struck her, Isabel reached across to the adjoining chair, and
unhooked the little silver chain-bag which she had brought in with
her.

"Oh," she said, "before I forget I wanted to ask you if you would be
so kind as to do something for me.  I hate bothering you, but you see
I don't know any one else, and I'm so ignorant about this kind of
thing."  She took out a couple of rings and a brooch and pushed them
across the table.  "It's to sell them," she added.  "I--I think they
ought to be worth something."

Tony picked up the brooch.  It was a beautiful piece of work--a large
single and absolutely flawless emerald, delicately set in gold.
Without being an expert in such matters he knew enough of precious
stones to realize that it was of considerable value.

"I should think this would do to begin with," he said, "unless you
are going to be very extravagant.  It ought to bring in bread and
butter for the rest of your life-time."

Isabel's face lighted up.  "Will it really!" she exclaimed.  "How
lovely.  I never thought it would be worth as much as that!"

Tony turned his attention to the rings, which in their way were every
bit as good as the brooch.  One was the half-hoop of sapphires and
diamonds which he had noticed on the previous evening, the other
consisted of three very fine rubies, mounted in a curious,
old-fashioned setting that seemed to be of Eastern origin.

He examined them both with much interest and then handed them back to
Isabel.

"You must keep them," he said.  "They are much too beautiful to sell,
and besides, there is no need to sell them.  The brooch will bring
you in quite a lot of money, and you can always get credit from the
milkman as long as you wear rubies and diamonds."

Isabel smiled, and slipping on the two rings held them out for Tony's
inspection.

"I am so glad," she said happily.  "I should hate to have sold them
really.  You see they belonged--"  She again came to an abrupt and
rather confused halt.  "They belonged to my great-grandmother," she
finished weakly.

"Indeed," said Tony in a perfectly grave voice.  "She must have had
charming hands."

There was a light tap at the door, and after a moment's delay the
discreet figure of Spalding again appeared on the threshold.

"I beg pardon, Sir Antony," he observed, "but Bugg has just returned.
I thought you might wish to be informed."

Tony pushed back his chair.  "What has he been doing with himself?"
he asked.

"I fancy, sir," returned Spalding impassively, "that he has been
spending the night in the Bow Street police station."

"Oh!" exclaimed Isabel in a horrified voice.

"Really!" said Tony.  "How exciting!"  He turned to Isabel.  "Shall
we have him up?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Send him along, Spalding," continued Tony.  "He needn't trouble
about making himself beautiful.  Tell him I should like to see him at
once."

The butler withdrew, and a few moments later Bugg appeared in the
doorway.  He saluted Tony with a cheerful grin, and then, as he
caught sight of Isabel, a sudden embarrassment seemed to descend upon
his spirit.  He coughed apologetically, lowered his eyes, and
shuffled slightly with one foot.

"Good-morning, Bugg," said Tony.  "Come and sit down."

Bugg advanced cautiously to the nearest chair and seated himself on
the extreme edge.

"Mornin', sir," he observed.  Then, throwing a nervous glance at
Isabel, he added hoarsely, "Pleased to see yer, Miss."

"I am very pleased to see you," said Isabel a little shyly.  "I want
to thank you for what you did last night.  I am so sorry they took
you to prison."

Bugg stared hard at the carpet.  "That's all right, Miss," he
muttered.  "Don't you worry abaht that, Miss."

Tony offered Isabel a cigarette, and then lit one himself.

"You were magnificent, Bugg," he said.  "Tell us what happened after
we left."

Bugg coughed again.  "Well, sir, 'twas this wy, sir.  Seein' as you
and the young laidy was best aht of it, I jest keeps them two Daigoes
busy like withaht puttin' 'em through it.  It didn't seem to me as no
one was goin' to taike the trouble to foller you when 'e could be
standin' there watchin' a scrap fur nothin'."

"I hope you didn't get hurt," said Isabel, who, with a slightly
bewildered expression, had been trying to follow this narrative.

Bugg shook his head.  "Not me, Miss.  It was jest a 'alf 'oliday fur
me till they starts usin' their feet, and then I 'anded 'em a couple
of flaps in the jaw quick, an' that steadied 'em.  Not as I think
they meant no 'arm, Miss.  There's parts o' the world where they
don't know no better.

"Yours is a generous heart, Bugg," said Tony.  "What happened next?"

"The rozzers come then, sir--a pair of 'em, sir.  They busts in
through the crowd like tigers, and afore ye could wink, one of 'em
grabs onter me, and the other cops 'old of the tall Daigo."

"And the second man--the one with the crooked eyes?" asked Isabel
quickly.  "What happened to him?"

"Well, I don't rightly know, Miss," said Bugg apologetically.  "Yer
see, 'e weren't there in a manner o' speakin'.  'E'd gorn across the
street when I give 'im that shove in the jaw, an 'e 'adn't 'ad time
to come back.  I think the coppers missed 'im."

"But they stuck to you two all right?" said Tony.

Bugg nodded his head.  "Yus, sir, we all goes orf to the staition
together--me an' the cops an' the Daigo an' the 'ole bloomin' street
arter us.  It weren't 'alf a picnic, sir, I can tell yer.  Well, w'en
we gets to the staition, I sees the inspector--'im wot taikes the
charge--lookin' partikler 'ard at me, but 'e don't say nothin', 'cept
to ask me my naime and address.

"''Erbert Johnson of 'Igh Street, Keington,' says I.  It was the fust
thing as comes into my 'ead.

"'An' you?' says 'e, turnin' to the Daigo.

"'My naime is Smith,' says the Daigo in 'is funny foreign wy o'
speakin'.

"'It's a good naime,' says the inspector, writin' it dahn.  'Wot's
all this trouble abaht?'

"'It was a misunderstandin',' says the Daigo very 'aughty like.  'I
declines to answer any further questions.'

"'You got anything to sy, 'Erbert Johnson,' says 'e to me.

"'I agree with the gen'leman wot's just spoke, sir,' says I.

"'Very well,' says 'e.  'This is a matter fur 'is Honour, this is.
You'll 'ave to stop 'ere the night, the pair of ye, unless ye've got
some kind friends as'll come along an' bail yer aht.'

"'E looks at us both, but the Daigo don't sy nothin' and I thinks to
meself the more privit we keeps this 'ere little mixup the better fur
all parties concerned.  So I lays low too, an' orf we goes to the
cells, saime as a couple o' ord'nary drunks and disorderlies."

Bugg paused for a moment, and a reminiscent grin spread slowly across
his face.

"It's a good story," said Tony encouragingly.  "Go on with it."

"Well, sir, I 'adn't bin in the cell very long w'en the door opens
and who should come in but the inspector 'isself.  'E looks me up an'
dahn with a kinder twinkle in 'is eye, an' then 'e says, ''Erbert
Johnson,' 'e says, 'w'y the 'ell didn't yer dot 'im one o' them left
'ooks o' yours, and then we shouldn't 'ave 'ad all this trouble?'
Well, that done it, sir!  I twigs at once 'e'd spotted who I was, and
seein' 'e meant ter be friendly like I ups and tells 'im just exactly
'ow it 'ad all come abaht.  'Don't worry,' says 'e ter me; 'your
blue-chinned pal don't want a fuss no more'n you do.  'E's jest bin
bribin' and corruptin' o' me to run the caise through as a ord'nary
street quarrel, an' seein' as we're told ter be kind to straingers,
per'aps I might see my wy ter do it.'  Then 'e puts 'is 'and on my
shoulder.  'As fur you, 'Erbert Johnson,' 'e says, 'you gotter come
along with me an' be introjooced to some o' the boys.  We does a bit
o' scrappin' 'ere in our spare time, an' 'tain't often we 'as the
honour of entertaining a future champion of England.'

"With that, sir, 'e taikes me upstairs to the inspector's room, where
there was 'alf a dozen cops sittin' arahnd smokin' and drinkin' saime
as if it was a pub or a privit drorin' room.  Talk o' sports,
sir--w'y Gawd love us I might a bin the King of England the wy they
treated me.  'Tell us abaht the fight, Tiger,' they says, and if
you'd seen me sittin' there, sir, with a large Bass in one 'and and a
four-penny stinker in the other and all them cops 'angin' on my
words, ye'd 'ave laughed fit ter bust yerself, sir."

Tony nodded his head.  "I have always suspected that the police led a
double life," he said.

"They're all right, sir," explained Bugg earnestly, "on'y they got
their livin' to get, saime as other folks.  They treated me proper,
they did.  Gimme a 'addick fur breakfast next mornin', and w'en the
caise comes on they 'as it all arrainged fur us right an' simple as
anything.  The copper as took us 'e tells 'is little bit, saime as
wot 'e'd fixed up with the inspector, an' then the Beak--'ole Sir
'Orace Samuel it was--'e puts on 'is glasses and blinks rahnd at the
pair of us.  'Either o' the prisoners any observations to hoffer?' 'e
says.  'E waits 'alf a tick, an' then as neither of us says nothin',
'e scratches 'is 'ead and grunts aht, 'seven-and-sixpence an' costs,
an' 'urry up with the nex' caise.'"

Bugg stopped, and wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve looked
from Tony to Isabel and then back again at his patron.

"An' that's abaht all, sir," he added.  "We forks out the rhino, and
then I gets a taxi-cab and tells the bloke to bung along 'ere as
quick as 'e can shift."  He hesitated for a moment.  "I 'ope I done
the right thing, sir?" he finished anxiously.

There was a long pause.

"You always do the right thing, Bugg," said Tony, at last.  "It's
almost a disease with you."

He pushed back his chair and for a little while remained gazing
thoughtfully at the marmalade pot.

"Bugg," he said; "have you any special engagements the next few days?"

"Not as I knows on, sir," replied Tiger, innocently.

Tony nodded his head.  "Good," he observed, and without further
comment he renewed his contemplation of the breakfast table.

"There's the matter o' the stakes, sir," Bugg ventured to remind him.
"'Alf-past twelve, sir, was the time Dr. Donaldson said they'd be
payin' over."

Tony again nodded.  "That will be all right, Bugg," he said.  "I will
go down to the Club myself and collect the royal booty.  I only hope
Da Freitas will turn up personally.  It would give me great pleasure
to watch him writing out the cheque."

He looked across smilingly towards Isabel, and saw to his amazement
that she had suddenly gone as white as a sheet.




CHAPTER VI

PRICING AN HEIRLOOM

Tony was so surprised that for a moment he remained just as he was.
Then suddenly recovering himself he turned back to Bugg.

"You had better go along and find yourself something to eat,
'Tiger,'" he said.  "That haddock must be getting a little historical
by now."

Bugg rose to his feet with a grin.  "I could shift a bit, sir," he
observed, "an' that ain't 'alf a fact."

"Tell the cook what you'd like," said Tony.  "After last night she
will do anything for you."  He paused.  "I want to see you again
before I go out," he added.

Bugg touched his forehead, and after making a respectful obeisance to
Isabel withdrew from the room.  Tony followed him to the door, and
then closing it after him, turned back leisurely towards the table.
Though she still looked a little pale and upset, the interval had
obviously done Isabel good.

"Is there anything the matter?" asked Tony kindly.

She shook her head, with a plucky if rather unsuccessful attempt at a
smile.  "No," she said, "I--I didn't feel very well for a moment.
It's nothing--absolutely nothing."  She paused, her lower lip caught
nervously between her small white teeth.  "I don't think I ought to
bother you any more," she added with a kind of forced calmness.  "I
think perhaps it would be best after all if I--if I found somewhere
else to go to."

Tony made a gesture of dissent.  "It can't be done," he said gravely.
"You see you are my lodger now, and you have got to give me a full
week's notice."  Then with a sudden change he went on: "You mustn't
be selfish you know, Isabel.  You can't float into people's lives out
of Long Acre with all sorts of delightful suggestions of romance and
mystery about you, and then simply disappear again the next morning.
It's not playing the game.  I should feel like a man who had been
turned out of a theatre at the end of the first act."

"You don't understand," said Isabel almost in a whisper.

"I know I don't," said Tony cheerfully.  "That's what's so charming
about it."  He paused.  "Suppose we have a week's trial at all
events?" he suggested.  "If it turns out a failure it will be just as
easy for you to disappear then.  You know both Guy and I improve on
acquaintance--really.  You mustn't judge us by what we are like at
breakfast.  We get much more bright and pleasant as the day wears on."

In spite of herself Isabel laughed.  "It isn't that I don't want to
stay," she said.  "I--I like you both very much."  She hesitated and
looked nervously round the room as if seeking for inspiration.  "It's
what might happen," she added.  "I can't explain, but I might be the
cause of getting you into trouble or--or even danger."

"That's all right," said Tony.  "I like danger, and Guy simply adores
trouble.  He takes it with everything."

Isabel made a faint gesture of helplessness.  "Oh," she said.  "I
can't go on arguing.  You are so obstinate.  But I have warned you,
haven't I?"

Tony nodded.  "If you like to call it a warning," he said.  "I look
on it more as a promise.  If you knew how dull Hampstead was you
would understand our morbid thirst for a little unhealthy excitement."

"I don't think I should find Hampstead dull," remarked Isabel a shade
wistfully.  "It seems to me just beautifully peaceful.  I think I
should like to live here for ever, and do exactly what I want to, and
not be bothered about anything."

"But that's precisely what I am suggesting," observed Tony.

Isabel smiled again.  She seemed to be recovering her spirits.  "I
should have to get some clothes first," she said.  "I couldn't live
here for ever on the contents of one small dressing-bag."

"It sounds inadequate," agreed Tony, "but I think that's a difficulty
we might get over.  I was just going to propose that you should take
the car and Mrs. Spalding this afternoon, and go and do some
shopping."

Isabel's eyes sparkled.  "How lovely!" she exclaimed.  Then a sudden
cloud came over her face.  "But I forgot," she added, "I haven't any
money--not until you have sold the brooch for me."

"That doesn't matter," said Tony.  "If you will let me, I will
advance you fifty pounds, and you can pay me to-morrow when we settle
up."

Isabel took a deep breath.  "Oh, you are kind," she said.  Then for a
moment she paused, her forehead knitted as though some unpleasant
thought had suddenly come into her mind.

"Anything wrong?" inquired Tony.

She looked round again with the same half-nervous, half-hunted
expression he had seen before.

"I was thinking," she faltered.  "Those two men.  I wonder if there
is any chance that I might meet them again.  I--I know it's silly to
be frightened, but somehow or other--"  She broke off as if hardly
knowing how to finish the sentence.

Tony leaned across the table and took her hand in his.

"Look here, Isabel," he said, "you have got to forget those
ridiculous people.  Whoever they are it is quite impossible for them
to interfere with you again.  We don't allow our adopted cousin to be
frightened by anybody, let alone a couple of freaks out of a comic
opera.  I would have come shopping with you myself this afternoon if
I hadn't promised to try out a new car at Brooklands.  As it is I am
going to send Bugg.  He will sit in front with Jennings, and if you
want any one knocked down you have only to mention the fact and he
will do it for you at once."

Isabel looked across at him gratefully.  "It's just like having a
private army of one's own," she said.

Tony nodded approvingly.  "That's the idea exactly.  We'll call
ourselves the Isabel Defence Force, and we'll make this our
headquarters.  You are really quite safe, you know, with Mrs.
Spalding, but you can always retreat here when you feel specially
nervous."  He patted her hand encouragingly, and sat back in his
chair.  "Why not stay here now," he suggested, "until you go
shopping?  No one will bother you.  You can sit in the garden and
read a book, or else go to sleep in the hammock.  Spalding will get
you some lunch when you feel like it."

"Lunch!" echoed Isabel, opening her eyes.  "What, after this?"  She
made an eloquent little gesture towards the sideboard.

"Certainly," said Tony.  "The Hampstead climate is very deceptive.
One requires a great deal of nourishment."

"Is the nourishment compulsory?" asked Isabel.  "If not I think I
should like to stay."

"You shall do exactly what you please about everything," said Tony.
"I believe in complete freedom--at all events for the upper classes."

He got up, and crossing the room to an old oak bureau in the corner,
took out a cheque book from the drawer and filled in a cheque for
fifty pounds.  This he blotted and handed to Isabel.

"Here's a piece of the brooch for you to go on with," he said.
"Jennings will drive you to the bank first, and after that he will
take you wherever you want to go.  Don't worry about keeping him
waiting or anything of that sort.  He is quite used to it, and he
always looks unhappy in any case."

Isabel daintily folded up the cheque and put it away in her bag.
Underneath her obvious gratitude there was a certain air of
naturalness about the way she accepted Tony's help that the latter
found immensely fascinating.  It reminded him somehow of a child or a
princess in a fairy story.

"I shall love going shopping again," she began frankly.  "It will
seem like--"  Once more she paused, and then as if she had suddenly
changed her mind about what she intended to say, she added a little
confusedly: "Oughtn't I to let Mrs. Spalding know that I want her to
come with me this afternoon?"

Tony shook his head.  "I think we can manage that for you," he said.
"The house is full of strong, idle men."  He got up from the desk.
"Come along and let me introduce you to the library, and then you can
find yourself something to read."

He led the way across the hall, and as he opened the door of the
apartment in question Isabel gave a little exclamation of surprise
and pleasure.

"Oh, but what a lovely lot of books!" she said.  "I should never have
guessed you were so fond of reading."

"I'm not," said Tony.  "I never read anything except Swinburne and
_The Autocar_.  Most of these belonged to my grandfather.  Books were
a kind of secret vice with him.  He collected them all his life and
left them to me in his will because he was quite sure they would
never get any thumb-marks on them."

Isabel laughed softly, and advancing to the nearest case began to
examine the titles.  Tony watched her for a moment, and then
strolling out into the hall, made his way back to the morning-room,
where he pressed the electric bell.

"Spalding," he said, when that incomparable retainer answered his
summons, "I have invited Miss Francis to make use of the house and
garden as much as she pleases.  When I am not in I shall be obliged
if you will see that she has everything she wants."

Spalding's face remained superbly impassive.  "Certainly, Sir
Antony," he replied, with a slight bow.

"And send Bugg here," added Tony.  "I want to speak to him before I
go out."

Spalding withdrew, and after a moment or two had elapsed, "Tiger"
appeared on the threshold hastily swallowing a portion of his
interrupted lunch.

"Sorry to disturb you, Bugg," said Tony, "but I want you to do
something for me, if you will."

"You on'y got to give it a naime, sir," observed the Tiger with a
final and successful gulp.

"I want you to go out in the car this afternoon, as well as Jennings.
Miss Francis is going to do some shopping, and it's just possible
that the two gentlemen who were annoying her last night might try the
same thing again."

Bugg's grey-green eyes opened in honest amazement.  "Wot!" he
exclaimed.  "Ain't they 'ad enough yet?  W'y if I'd knowed that I'd
'ave laid fur the tall one and give 'im another shove in the jaw w'en
'e come outer Court this mornin'."  He paused and took an indignant
breath.  "Wot's their gaime any way, sir--chaisin' a young lidy like
that?"

Tony shook his head.  "I don't know exactly, Bugg," he said, "but
whatever it is I mean to put a stop to it.  It is our duty to
encourage a high moral standard amongst the inferior races."

"Cert'nly, sir," observed Bugg approvingly.  "I always says with a
German or a Daigo it's a caise of 'it 'im fust an' argue with 'im
arterwards.  You can't maike no mistake then, sir."

"It seems a good working principle," admitted Tony.  "Still there are
occasions in life when strategy--you know what strategy is, Bugg?----"

The other scratched his head.  "Somethin' like gettin' a bloke to
lead w'en 'e don't want to, sir," he hazarded.

"You have the idea," said Tony.  "Well, as I was about to observe,
there are occasions in life when strategy is invaluable.  I am
inclined to think that this is one of them."

Bugg eyed him with questioning interest.  "Meanin' to sye, sir?"

"Meaning to say," added Tony, "that I should rather like to find out
who these gentlemen are who are worrying Miss Francis.  If we knew
their names we might be able to bring a little moral pressure to bear
on them.  Knocking people down in the street is such an unchristian
remedy--besides it gets one into trouble with the police."

"Then I ain't to shove it across 'em?" remarked Bugg in a slightly
disappointed voice.

Tony shook his head.  "Not unless they insist on it," he said.  "As a
matter of fact I don't think there is really much chance of your
meeting them: it's only that I shall feel more comfortable if I know
you are in the car."

Bugg nodded his comprehension.  "That's all right, sir," he observed
reassuringly.  "I'll bring the young laidy back saife an' 'earty.
You leave it ter me."

"Thank you, Bugg," said Tony.  "I shall now be able to go round
Brooklands with a light heart."

He strolled back to the library, where he found Isabel kneeling upon
the broad window-seat looking into a book which she had taken down
from a neighbouring shelf.  She made a charming picture with her
copper-coloured hair gleaming in the sunlight.

"Good-bye, Isabel," he said.  "I wish I could see you again before
to-morrow, but I am afraid there isn't much chance.  I can't very
well ask you to dinner because of Cousin Henry.  He would rush away
and tell all my relations and half the House of Commons."

A gleam of dismay flashed into Isabel's eyes.

"The House of Commons!" she repeated.  "Is your cousin a statesman
then, a--a--diplomat?"

"He is under that curious impression," said Tony.

Isabel laid her hand quickly upon his sleeve.  "You mustn't let him
know I am here.  Promise me, won't you?  Promise you won't even say
that you have met me."

There was a frightened urgency in her demand that rilled Tony with a
fresh surprise.

"Of course I promise," he said.  "I have no intention of telling any
one I have met you, and as for telling about you to Henry--well, I
should as soon think of playing music to a bullock."  He glanced up
at the clock.  "I must be off," he added.  "I will bring the car
round to-morrow and we will have a nice long run in the country.  In
the meanwhile try and remember that you've got absolutely nothing to
be frightened about.  You are as safe with us as if you were a
thousand pound note in the Bank of England."

He gave her fingers an encouraging squeeze, and then leaving her
looking after him with grateful eyes, he walked across the hall to
the front door, where Jennings was standing beside the big Peugot.

"Jennings," said Tony, getting into the driving-seat, "I have
arranged for you to take Miss Francis shopping this afternoon in the
Rolls-Royce.  Bugg and Mrs. Spalding will be coming with you."

"Very good, sir," responded Jennings joylessly.

"You will take Miss Francis to my bank first: after that she will
give you her own instructions."  He paused.  "It's just possible you
may meet with a little interference from a couple of foreign
gentlemen.  In that event I shall be obliged if you will assist Bugg
in knocking them down."

Jennings' brow darkened.  "If any one comes messin' around with my
car," he observed bitterly, "I'll take a spanner to 'em quick.  I
don't hold with this here fist fighting: it's foolishness to my mind."

"Just as you please, Jennings," said Tony.  "As the challenged party
you will be fully entitled to choose your own weapons."

He slipped in his second speed, and gliding off down the drive
emerged on to the Heath.  The main road was thickly strewn with
nursemaids, and elderly gentlemen, who had apparently selected it as
a suitable spot from which to admire the famous view, but avoiding
them with some skill, Tony reached the top of Haverstock Hill, and
turned up to the right in the direction of the Spaldings' house.

His ring at the bell was answered by Mrs. Spalding herself--a
respectable-looking woman of about forty.  She welcomed Tony with a
slightly flustered air of friendly deference.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Spalding," he said.

"Good-morning, Sir Antony," she replied.  "Won't you step inside,
sir?"

Tony shook his head.  "I mustn't wait now.  I have got to be at the
Club in twenty minutes.  I only came round to thank you for your
kindness to Miss Francis.  She tells me you have looked after her
like a mother."

Mrs. Spalding seemed pleased, if a trifle embarrassed.

"I am very glad to have been of any service, Sir Antony.  Not but
what it's been a pleasure to do anything I could for Miss Francis.  A
very nice young lady, sir--and a real one, too, if I'm any judge of
such matters."

"I think you're a first-class judge," said Tony, "and I am glad you
like her, because I want her to stay on with you for a bit.  The fact
of the matter is--" he came a step nearer and his voice assumed a
pleasantly confidential tone--"Miss Francis is an orphan, and she has
been compelled to leave her guardian because he drinks and treats her
badly.  Besides he's a foreigner, and you know what most of them are
like."

"Not a German, sir!" exclaimed Mrs. Spalding feelingly.

"No, it's not quite as bad as that," said Tony.  "Still he is a
brute, and I have made up my mind to keep her out of his hands until
her aunt comes back from America.  If you will help us, I think we
ought to be able to manage it all right."

The combined chivalry and candour of Tony's attitude in the affair
evidently appealed to Mrs. Spalding's finer nature.

"I think you are acting very right, sir," she replied warmly.  "A
young lady like that didn't ought to be left in charge of a
foreigner--let alone one who's given to the drink.  If I can be of
any assistance you can count on me, Sir Antony."

"Good!" said Tony.  "Well, in the first place, if you can manage it,
I want you to go shopping with her this afternoon in the car.  She
has to buy some clothes and things, and it isn't safe for her to be
about in the West End alone.  If she came across her guardian he
would be quite likely to try and get her back by force."

"They're a desperate lot, some of them foreigners, when they're
baulked," observed Mrs. Spalding seriously.

Tony nodded.  "That's why I have arranged to send Bugg with you.
There is not really much chance of your meeting with any
interference, but just in case you did--well, you could leave him to
discuss the matter, and come along home."  He paused.  "You won't let
Miss Francis think I have been talking about her private
affairs--will you?"

Mrs. Spalding made a dignified protest.  "I shouldn't dream of no
such thing, Sir Antony.  I quite understand as you've been speaking
to me in confidence."

Tony held out his hand, which, after a moment's respectful
hesitation, the worthy woman accepted.

"Well, I am very much obliged to you, Mrs. Spalding," he said.  "You
have helped me out of a great difficulty."  He stepped up into the
driving-seat and took hold of the wheel.  "The car will be coming
round about half-past two," he added, "and I expect Miss Francis will
be in it."

Mrs. Spalding curtseyed, and responding with a polite bow over the
side, Tony released his brake and glided off down the hill.

He did not drive direct to the Club, for on reaching Oxford Street he
made a short detour through Hanover Square, and pulled up outside
Murdock and Mason, the long established and highly respectable firm
of jewellers.  He was evidently known there, for so sooner had he
entered the shop than the senior partner, Mr. Charles Mason, a
portly, benevolent old gentleman with a white beard, stepped forward
to greet him.

"Good-morning, Sir Antony," he observed, smiling pleasantly through
his gold-rimmed spectacles; "we haven't had the pleasure of seeing
you for quite a long time.  I trust you are keeping well?"

"I am very well indeed, thank you, Mr. Mason," said Tony.  "In fact I
am not at all sure I am not better than I deserve to be."  He put his
hand in his pocket and pulled out Isabel's brooch.  "I have come to
ask you if you will do me a kindness."

Mr. Mason beamed more affably than ever.  "Anything in my power, at
any time, Sir Antony."

"Well, I should like you to tell me how much this is worth.  I don't
want to sell it: I just want to find out its value."

Mr. Mason took the brooch, and adjusting his spectacles bent over it
with professional deliberation.  It was not long before he looked up
again with a mingled expression of interest and surprise.

"I don't know whether you are aware of the fact, Sir Antony," he
remarked, "but you have a very exceptional piece of old jewellery
here.  The stone is one of the finest emeralds I have ever seen, and
as for the setting--" he again peered curiously at the delicate gold
tracery--"well, I don't want to express an opinion too hastily, but I
am inclined to put it down as ancient Moorish work of a remarkably
beautiful kind."  He paused.  "I trust that you wouldn't consider it
a liberty, Sir Antony, if I inquire whether you could tell me
anything of its history."

"It belonged to my cousin's great-grandmother," said Tony placidly.
"That's all I know about it at present."

"Indeed," said Mr. Mason, "indeed!  It would be of great interest to
discover where it was obtained from.  A stone of this quality, to say
nothing of its exceptionally rare setting, is almost bound to have
attracted attention.  I should not be surprised to find it had
figured in the collection of some very eminent personage."

"What do you suppose it's worth?" asked Tony.

Mr. Mason hesitated for a moment.  "Apart from any historical
interest it may possess," he replied slowly, "I should put its value
at something between five and seven thousand pounds."

"Really!" said Tony.  "I had no idea my cousin's great-grandmother
was so extravagant."  He picked up the brooch.  "I wonder if you
could find me a nice strong case for it, Mr. Mason.  Somebody might
run into me at Brooklands this afternoon, and it would be a pity to
get it chipped."

The old jeweller accepted the treasure with almost reverent care, and
calling up one of his assistants entrusted it to the latter's charge.
In a minute or so the man returned with a neatly fastened and
carefully sealed little package, which Tony thrust into his pocket.

"Well, good-bye, Mr. Mason," he said, "and thank you so much.  If I
find out anything more about my cousin's great-grandmother I will let
you know."

Bowing and beaming, Mr. Mason led the way to the door. "I should be
most interested--most interested, Sir Antony.  Such a remarkable
piece of work must certainly possess a history.  I shouldn't be
surprised if it had belonged to any one--any one--from Royalty
downwards."

Half-past twelve was just striking when Tony came out of the shop.
The distance is not far from Bond Street to Covent Garden, but as
intimate students of London are aware the route on occasions is apt
to be a trifle congested.  It was therefore about ten minutes after
the appointed time when Tony pulled up outside the Cosmopolitan and
jumping down from the car made his way straight through the hall to
Donaldson's private sanctum, where the ceremony of settling up was
invariably conducted.

The first person who met his eyes on entering the room was the
Marquis da Freitas.  Despite his rôle as payer-out that distinguished
statesman appeared to be in the best of spirits, and was chatting
away to a small knot of members that included "Doggy" Donaldson and
Dick Fisher the referee.  In a corner of the room, tastefully arrayed
in a check suit and lemon-coloured gloves, lounged the slightly
crestfallen figure of Mr. "Lightning" Lopez.

"I am so sorry to have kept you all waiting," said Tony.  "I haven't
even the excuse of having to come up from Richmond--like the Marquis."

Da Freitas, who was in the act of lighting a cigar, waved aside the
apology with a characteristic gesture.  "A few minutes' grace are
always permissible, Sir Antony, except where a lady is concerned.  As
for my own punctuality--" he shrugged his shoulders and showed his
white teeth in an amiable smile--"Well, I was staying at Claridge's
last night, so I had even less distance to come than you."

[Illustration: "I am so sorry to have kept you waiting," said Tony.
"I haven't even the excuse of having to come up from Richmond--like
the Marquis." Da Freitas, who was in the act of lighting a cigar,
waved aside the apology.  "A few minutes' grace are always
permissible, Sir Antony, except where a lady is concerned."]

There was a short pause.  "Well, as we are all here," broke in the
genial rumble of "Doggy" Donaldson, "what d'ye say to gettin' to
work?  No good spinning out these little affairs--is it?"

This sentiment seeming to meet with general approval, the company
seated themselves round the big table in the centre.  The proceedings
did not take long, for after Donaldson had written out a cheque for
the stakes and purse, and handed fifty pounds, which represented the
loser's end, to Lopez, there remained nothing else to do except to
settle up private wagers.  Tony, who was occupying the pleasant
position of receiver-general, stuffed away the spoils into his
pocket, and then following the time-honoured custom of the Club on
such occasions, sent out for a magnum of champagne.

"I am sorry the King isn't with us," he observed to Da Freitas.  "I
should like to drink his health and wish him better luck next time."

"We all should!" exclaimed "Doggy" filling up his glass.  "Gentlemen,
here's to our distinguished fellow-member, King Pedro of Livadia, and
may he soon get his own back on those dirty skunks who gave him the
chuck."

A general chorus of "Hear, hear," "Bravo," greeted this elegant
little ovation, for if Pedro himself had failed to inspire any
particular affection in the Club, its members shared to the full that
fine reverence for the Royal Principle which is invariably found
amongst sportsmen, actors, licensed victuallers, and elderly ladies
in boarding-houses.

The Marquis da Freitas acknowledged the toast with that easy and
polished urbanity which distinguished all his actions.

"I can assure you, gentlemen," he observed, "that amongst the many
agreeable experiences that have lightened His Majesty's temporary
exile there is none that he will look back on with more pleasure than
his association with the Cosmopolitan Club.  It is His Majesty's
earnest hope, and may I add mine also, that in the happy and I trust
not far distant days when our at present afflicted country has
succeeded in ridding herself of traitors and oppressors we shall have
the opportunity of returning some portion of that hospitality which
has been so generously lavished on us in England.  I can only add
that there will never be any visitors to Livadia more welcome to us
than our friends of the Cosmopolitan Club."

A heartfelt outburst of applause greeted these sentiments--the idea
of being the personal guests of a reigning sovereign distinctly
appealing to the members present.

"I hope he means it," whispered "Doggy" Donaldson in Tony's ear.
"I'd like to see a bit of bull fightin', and they tell me the
Livadian gals--"  He smacked his lips thoughtfully as though in
anticipation of what might be accomplished under the ægis of a royal
patron.

Having created this favourable impression the Marquis da Freitas
looked at his watch and announced that he must be going.  Tony, who
had promised to lunch at Brooklands before the trial, also rose to
take his departure, and together they passed out of the room and down
the corridor.

As they reached the hall, the swing door that led out into the street
was suddenly pushed open and a man in a frock coat and top hat strode
into the Club.  He was a remarkable-looking gentleman--not unlike an
elderly and fashionably dressed edition of Don Quixote.  A dyed
imperial and carefully corseted figure gave him at first sight the
appearance of being younger than he really was, but his age could not
have been far short of sixty.

The most striking thing about him, however, was his obvious
agitation.  His face was worried and haggard, and his hands were
switching nervously like those of a man suffering from some
uncontrollable mental excitement.

He came straight across the hall towards the porter's box, and then
catching sight of Da Freitas turned towards him with an involuntary
interjection of relief.

"Oh, you _are_ here," he exclaimed.  "Thank God I----"

He paused abruptly as he suddenly perceived Tony in the background,
and at the same instant the Marquis stepped forward and laid a hand
on his shoulder.

"My dear fellow," he said in that smooth, masterful voice of his,
"how good of you to look me up!  Come along in here and have a chat."

On the right of the hall was a small room specially reserved for the
entertainment of visitors, and before the stranger could have uttered
another syllable--even if he had wished to, the Marquis had drawn him
across the threshold and closed the door behind them.

For several seconds Tony remained where he was, contemplating the
spot where they had disappeared.  Then, with that pleasant, unhurried
smile of his, he pulled out his case, and slowly and thoughtfully
lighted himself a cigarette.

"One might almost imagine," he observed, "that Da Freitas didn't want
to take me into his confidence."




CHAPTER VII

BUGG'S STRATEGY

There was a knock outside.

"Come in," said Tony, who was arranging his tie in front of the glass.

The door opened, and Guy Oliver walked into the bedroom.  He was in
evening dress, which if possible made him look more sedate than ever.

"Hullo, Guy!" said Tony; "I am afraid I am a little late.  Is Cousin
Henry fuming on the mat?"

Guy shook his head.  "He hasn't turned up yet: it's only just gone
half-past."  He seated himself on the end of the bed.  "How did you
get on at Brooklands?" he asked.

Tony stepped back from the glass and contemplated his tie with some
satisfaction.

"I had quite a cheerful day," he replied.  "I managed to squeeze
eighty-six out of her, and finished up by breaking the back-axle."

Guy nodded grimly.  "You will break your neck some day," he observed,
"and then I suppose you will be satisfied."

"I doubt it," said Tony; "not if our present theology is anything
approaching accurate."  He picked up a dinner-jacket from the bed and
began slowly to put it on.  "Besides," he added thoughtfully, "I
shouldn't like to die just yet.  I think I see a chance of doing a
little good in the world."

Guy looked at him suspiciously.  "Who was that girl you had to
breakfast with you?" he asked.

"Really, Guy!" said Tony, "you get more cynical every day."  He
crossed to the washstand, and taking a carnation out of its glass
proceeded to arrange it in his button-hole.

"But who is she?" persisted Guy.

"She is my adopted cousin.  Her name is Isabel--Isabel Francis.  I
adopted her after breakfast this morning."

There was a short pause.  Then in a faintly ironical voice Guy
observed: "Since she appears to be a relation of mine also, perhaps
you wouldn't mind telling me where and when you met her."

"Not in the least," said Tony imperturbably.  "We met each other in
Long Acre last night at about a quarter to eleven."

"Where?" exclaimed Guy.

"Long Acre," repeated Tony.  "It's a popular thoroughfare running out
of Leicester Square."  He watched his cousin's face for a moment with
some enjoyment, and then added: "If you would try to look less like
the recording angel I might tell you all about it."

"Go on," said Guy.

Tony paused to light a cigarette, and then seated himself on the bed.
"It was like this," he began.  "Bugg and I were coming down Long Acre
after the fight, when we saw Isabel being--being--what's the
word--'accosted' by a couple of gentlemen who looked like dressed-up
organ-grinders.  As an Englishman and a baronet I thought it was my
duty to interfere.

"You would," said Guy with conviction.

"Leaving Bugg to knock down the two gentlemen," proceeded Tony
tranquilly, "I took Isabel to supper at Verrier's.  We had a very
good supper.  There was----"

"Never mind about the supper," interrupted Guy.  "How did she come to
be having breakfast with you this morning?"

"What a dreadfully direct mind you have," complained Tony.  "There is
no pleasure in telling you a story."  He paused.  "The fact was," he
added, "that Isabel had nowhere to sleep, so I brought her back to
Mrs. Spalding's."

"You what?" demanded Guy.

"I brought her back to Mrs. Spalding's.  I couldn't very well bring
her here: I knew it would shock you.  That's the worst of having a
thoughtful nature like mine."

"I say, is all this true?" asked Guy.

"Of course it is," said Tony.  "Perfectly true.  I couldn't invent
anything half so interesting."

"You mean to say that you picked up a girl in Long Acre, and that
you've actually brought her back and--and established her at the
Spaldings'!"

"My dear Guy!" said Tony.  "Please don't talk like that.  It reminds
me of one of Hall Caine's heroes."  He stopped to flick the ash off
his cigarette.  "You've seen Isabel.  You surely don't think she is
an abandoned adventuress, do you?"

"No," said Guy.  "I never suggested it: at least I never meant to.
She seemed quite a nice girl in her way, but--but--well, who is she,
and what on earth is she doing wandering about London without any
friends?"

"I don't know," said Tony.  "I think she has run away from somewhere
and doesn't want to go back.  The only thing I am certain about is
that she had a very extravagant great-grandmother."

Guy got up from the bed.  "Well," he said, "I have seen you do some
fairly insane things in my time, but this is about the limit.  Why
the girl may be anything or anybody."

"I know," interrupted Tony. "It's the uncertainty that makes it so
exciting."

"But think of the position you're putting yourself in!  Suppose she
has run away from school and her parents were to trace her here, why
there would be a scandal that would ruin the family!"

"Well, what do you think I ought to do?" asked Tony.  "Turn her out
again into the cold hard world?"

Guy shrugged his shoulders.  "You must do what you like," he said.
"I'm not going to accept any responsibility.  I have given you my
opinion, and if you don't choose----"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed almost
immediately by the appearance of Spalding, who was carrying a note
upon a small silver tray.  He crossed the room and proffered the
letter to Tony.

"Mr. Conway has just arrived, Sir Antony," he remarked.  "He is in
the drawing-room."

"What's this?" asked Tony, picking up the note.

"I believe it is a communication from Bugg, Sir Antony.  Mrs.
Spalding brought it round."

Tony turned to his cousin.  "You might go down and kiss Henry, will
you, Guy?" he said.  "I will be with you in a second."

Guy left the room, and tearing open the envelope, Tony took out the
letter inside.  It was written in a sprawling, illiterate hand, and
beautifully innocent of either stops or capitals.


sir i and the young lady come home safe but i spotted one of them
forin blokes hanging round the corner of the street so i says to
meself I'd better stop here till i heres from you becos i think he
may be after the young lady and Mrs S. says its all rite and i can
sleep in the kitchin and hoping i done rite your obedient servent
tiger bugg the young lady didnt spot the bloke.


Tony read this interesting missive through with extreme care and then
looked up at the expressionless face of Spalding.

"For various reasons," he said, "it would be very convenient if Bugg
could sleep at your house for the next day or so.  I suppose you
would have no objection if your wife approved?"

"None at all, Sir Antony," replied Spalding.  "I make it a point
never to object to anything of which Mrs. Spalding approves."

Tony regarded him thoughtfully.  "I should imagine you were a most
considerate husband, Spalding," he said.

"Yes, sir," said Spalding.  "My wife sees to that, sir."

Folding up the note and putting it in his pocket, Tony made his way
downstairs to the drawing-room, where he found Guy in conversation
with a heavily-built, pink-faced, stolid-looking man of about forty
years of age.  This was Henry Conway, a first cousin of both Tony and
Guy, and an intensely serious and painstaking member of the House of
Commons.  He had married Lady Laura Crampton, the plain but
public-spirited daughter of the Earl of Kent--an alliance which had
been of considerable assistance to them both in their disinterested
efforts in behalf of the general welfare.

"Hullo, Henry," said Tony, coming forward with a well-assumed air of
pleasure.  "I am so sorry to be late.  How's Laura?"

Henry shook hands.

"Laura is fairly well, thank you, Tony," he replied.  "I think she's
a little overtaxed her strength in working up this new league for
closing the public-houses to women, but no doubt she will soon be
herself again.  Her recuperative powers are wonderful, quite
wonderful."

"I know," said Tony.  "I suppose the feeling that one is promoting
the happiness of one's fellow-creatures acts as a sort of stimulus."

Henry nodded, and taking out his handkerchief blew his nose
resonantly.  "If it were not for that," he observed, "the strain of
public life would at times be almost intolerable."

There was a short pause, broken by the opportune appearance of
Spalding with the announcement that dinner was ready.

Throughout the meal the conversation remained fairly general.  Henry
was rich in that type of intelligence which enables its possessor to
discourse copiously and decisively upon every possible topic without
puzzling the listener by introducing subtle or original views.
Politics in some shape or other were of course his principal theme,
and in view of Guy's warning, Tony expected every moment that the
menacing question of Balham North would obtrude itself above the
horizon.  Apparently, however, in Henry's opinion, the presence of
Spalding acted as a barrier, and it was not until dinner was finished
and they were sitting alone over their coffee and cigars that he
began to approach the subject which was really the cause of his visit.

"I understand," he said turning to Tony, "that Guy has more or less
acquainted you with the steps that I have been taking in your
interest."

Tony nodded.  "It's exceedingly kind of you, Henry," he said.  "The
only thing is I haven't quite made up my mind yet whether I have the
necessary qualifications for a successful statesman."

Henry's eyebrows contracted.  "I was under the impression," he said,
"that we had already settled that part of the affair."

"You and Laura may have settled it," replied Tony.  "In important
matters of this sort I always prefer a little time for reflection."

Henry pushed back his chair from the table.  "And may I inquire," he
asked with an obvious attempt at irony, "what you would consider 'a
little time'?  It seems to me that six years ought to be a sufficient
period in which to decide what one intends to do with one's self."
He paused.  "Unless, of course, you prefer to go on doing nothing."

"Nothing!" echoed Tony reprovingly.  "My dear Henry!  What a way in
which to describe my multifarious activities."

With the stern self-control engendered by a public career Henry
managed to keep his temper.  "I am speaking of useful and serious
work in the world," he replied.  "You did your duty in the war
certainly, but since then you seem to have devoted your life entirely
to frivolous amusements."

"There is precious little frivolity about motor-racing," objected
Tony.  "You should have been with me to-day when the back-axle went."

"Thank you," said Henry stiffly.  "I have something better to do with
my time."  He looked across at Guy.  "I think you agree with me that
the manner in which Tony is wasting his life is nothing short of
deplorable."

"Certainly I do," said Guy.  "I was telling him so at dinner last
night."

Henry nodded.  "The whole family are of the same opinion."  He turned
back to Tony.  "It isn't as if you were a private individual and able
to do what you please.  A great position has its obligations as well
as its privileges.  The Conways have always played an important part
in public life, and as head of the family it is your duty to see that
this tradition is maintained."

Tony looked at him with a certain amount of admiration.  "If I only
had your gifts, Henry," he said, "I shouldn't hesitate a moment, but
I don't believe I could ever learn to talk as you do."

Henry acknowledged the compliment with a pleased if slightly
patronizing smile.  "Oh, I don't know," he observed more graciously.
"I believe you have considerable ability if you chose to exercise it.
Of course one can't expect to become a finished speaker all in a
moment, but it's wonderful what a little practice and experience will
do.  Besides you would have the benefit of my advice and assistance
from the start."

"I am sure I should," said Tony, "and Laura's, too, I expect."

Henry nodded.  "No one is more interested in your future than Laura
is.  It was her original idea that I should bring your name forward
for Balham North.  You can count on having her by your side through
the whole campaign."

"It's my belief," interrupted Guy a little hastily, "that Tony would
thoroughly enjoy an election.  The element of fighting about it ought
to suit him exactly."

"I wish it was some other place than Balham North though," observed
Tony pensively.  "I can't see myself saying 'Men of Balham!' with
just the proper ring that the phrase ought to have."

Henry looked at him a shade mistrustfully.  "I only hope," he
replied, "that you intend to approach the matter in a serious spirit.
I have gone out of my way to put your name forward, and it might do
me a great deal of harm politically, if you choose to make a
deliberate fiasco of it."

With a reassuring smile, Tony pushed the port towards him.

"Don't you worry, Henry," he said.  "When I take a thing up I always
carry it through decently and properly, don't I, Guy?"

"You carry it through, certainly," admitted the latter.

"Then I understand," said Henry refilling his glass, "that I can
inform Headquarters you are prepared to contest the seat at the next
election."

There was a short pause.

"I suppose so," said Tony.  "If it will really give the family so
much pleasure I haven't the heart to refuse.  I am afraid it will
mean a lot of extra work for Guy, though."

"You needn't mind about me," put in Guy unsympathetically.

"And how does one start?" asked Tony.  "I have read somewhere about
people nursing a constituency.  Do we have to go down and nurse
Balham?"

Henry shook his head.  "There is no hurry," he said.  "Sir George
Wilmer has given us a private hint that he means to retire at the
next election, but he is not going to make his intention public until
Christmas.  Properly used, this time will be invaluable to you."

Tony nodded thoughtfully.  "Yes," he said.  "I shall enjoy a last run
round before becoming an M.P.  One has got to be so devilish careful
what one does then."

"I was referring rather," said Henry with some coldness, "to the
opportunity it will afford you of preparing yourself for your new
position.  If you choose to work hard you might by that time have put
yourself in the way of becoming a useful and desirable acquisition to
the House."

"Why, of course," said Tony.  "I never thought of looking at it like
that."  He paused.  "What would you advise me to work at?"

"If I were you," said Henry, "I should take up some special
subject--it doesn't much matter what it is--foreign affairs,
temperance, agriculture--anything which is frequently before the
House.  Make yourself more or less of an authority on that, and then
you will have a recognized position from the very start."  He stopped
to consult his watch.  "I am afraid I shall have to be going," he
added.  "I have promised to look in and say a few words to the West
Hampstead Anti-Vivisection League, who are holding their annual
meeting to-night, and it's getting on for ten o'clock now."  He got
up and held out a large, white, soft hand, which Tony accepted with a
certain physical reluctance that hands of that sort always inspired
in him.

"I am pleased--very pleased," continued Henry, "that you are at last
beginning to realize the responsibilities of your position.  When the
time comes you may rest assured that Laura and I will give you any
assistance in our power.  In the meantime, if you want any advice
about what to read or study, you can't do better than to talk it over
with Guy."

Tony nodded again.  "I expect we shall have lots of interesting chats
together," he said.

He rang the bell for Henry's car, and accompanying his cousin into
the hall, helped him on with his coat.  They stood talking in the
doorway until a well-appointed Daimler brougham rolled up noiselessly
to the porch, and then with another handshake and a final good-night
Tony returned to the dining-room.

He sat down heavily in his lately vacated chair.  "If you have any
real love for me, Guy," he said, "you will pass me the brandy."

Guy handed across a delicately shaped old Venetian decanter, out of
which Tony helped himself in generous fashion.

"If I had an inn," he observed, "I should pay Henry to sit in the bar
parlour and talk about politics.  I am sure he would drive the
customers to drink."

In spite of himself Guy smiled.  "I think you are very unfair and
very ungrateful," he replied serenely.  "Henry may be a little
pompous at times, but after all he means well, and he has your best
interests at heart."

Tony lit himself another cigar.  "All my relations have," he said,
"and the worst of it is, it's such a horribly infectious complaint.
If I am not uncommonly careful I shall be catching it myself."

"You have managed to resist it pretty successfully so far," observed
Guy drily.

"I know," said Tony, "but that doesn't make me feel really safe.
There is a sort of natural tendency to take one's self seriously in
the Conway blood, and you can never be certain it won't suddenly come
bursting out.  I shouldn't be in the least surprised if I finished up
by getting the Victorian Order, and the freedom of Manchester."

"I suppose you do really mean to stand?" said Guy after a short pause.

"I suppose so," replied Tony.  "I think I would agree to do anything
rather than argue with Henry."

He pushed back his chair and finishing off the brandy in his glass,
rose to his feet.

"Going out?" asked Guy.

Tony nodded.  "Just for a few minutes.  It's a very important step in
one's life to become a member of Parliament--especially for Balham
North.  I am going to have a little quiet meditation beneath the
stars."

Guy looked at him disbelievingly.  "Umph!" he observed, and taking
out his favourite after-dinner smoke--a short, well-seasoned briar
pipe, began methodically to fill it from his pouch.

Leaving him to this innocent luxury, Tony crossed the hall, and
without troubling to pick up a hat sauntered leisurely out of the
house and down the drive.  It was a perfect night.  Under a sky of
inky blue, powdered with stars, the Heath lay dark and silent, as if
dreaming regretfully of those far gone spacious times when the
mounted highwaymen lurked amongst its bushes.

The only people who lurked there at present were much too occupied
with each other to pay any attention to Tony.  With his cigar glowing
pleasantly in the darkness he strolled slowly across the grass in the
direction of the water-works, which stood up in a clear-cut, black
mass against the clearness of the night sky.

A few yards further brought him to the end of the quiet road in which
the Spaldings' house was situated.  It was overshadowed by trees, but
in the light of a street lamp some little way down, he caught sight
of a solitary, bare-headed figure leaning over one of the front
gates.  Even at that distance he could recognize the familiar
features of "Tiger" Bugg.

As Tony came up, the future world's champion lifted the latch, and
stepped out noiselessly on to the pavement to meet him.

"I guessed it was you, sir," he observed in a low voice.  "You didn't
'appen to spot no one 'angin' abaht under them trees as you come
along?"

Tony shook his head, and seated himself on the low wall with his back
to the railings.  "No, Bugg," he said.  "The road seemed to me
distinctly empty."

Under the lamp-light, "Tiger's" face assumed an expression of
disappointment.  "Ah!" he remarked, "I reckon they've spotted I'm
layin' for 'em arter all."  He paused.  "You got my letter, sir?"

"Yes, thank you, Bugg," said Tony.  "I want you to tell me all about
it."

"I don't know as there's very much to tell, sir," responded Bugg
modestly.  "It was like this 'ere, sir.  The young laidy done 'er
shopping nice and comf'table, and there 'adn't bin no sign of any one
'anging arahnd or wantin' to maike trouble.  We wos comin' back in
the car and I was just thinkin' to meself as things was all right,
w'en Jennings swung 'er a bit lively rahnd that bottom corner
there,"--he jerked his thumb away down the road--"and all of a sudden
I seed a 'ead dodgin' back be'ind one o' them big trees.  'E was
quick, but 'e weren't quite quick enough for me.  I knew 'is dirty
faice the moment I set me eyes on it.  It was the other Daigo--the
one that copped a shove in the jaw last night and done a buck w'en
the rozzers come."

"You don't think Miss Francis saw him?" interrupted Tony.

Bugg shook his head.  "No one seen 'im except me, sir; and I didn't
say nothin', not bein' wishful to frighten the young laidy.  Besides,
it come into me 'ead wot you'd said abaht leadin' 'em on like, so I
jest sits w'ere I was till we reaches the 'ouse, an' then I gets out
an' goes inside saime as if I 'adn't seen nothing.  I 'ope I done
right, sir?"

"Sherlock Holmes couldn't have done righter," observed Tony.  "I
wonder how the devil they've found out the house though."

Bugg scratched his ear.  "Well, sir, I bin thinkin 'it over like,
sir, and I reckon they must ha' followed me this mornin', w'en I come
up from the Court."

Tony looked at him admiringly.  "Bugg," he said, "you are growing
positively brilliant.  I have no doubt that's the correct
explanation.  They were probably hanging about outside Goodman's Rest
and saw Miss Francis come back here in the car."  He paused and took
a thoughtful draw at his cigar.  "I suppose they're waiting for a
chance to get her alone again."

Bugg nodded.  "That's abaht it, sir; and that's w'y I thought I'd
best stop on 'ere.  I see Mrs. Spalding knew something o' wot was up,
so I gives 'er the orfice straight abaht 'avin' spotted the bloke
be'ind the tree, and she suggests as I should write to you an' she'll
taike the letter rahnd."  He cleared his throat, and expectorated in
the gutter.  "And that's 'ow things are, sir, in a manner o'
speaking."

Tony knocked the ash off his cigar and got up from his seat.

"I am vastly obliged to you, Bugg," he said.  "You are an ideal
secretary for a knight errant."  He looked up at the house, the
windows of which were in darkness.  "Have they gone to bed?" he asked.

"I think the young laidy's turned in, sir," replied Bugg.  "I reckon
she was tired buyin' all them 'ats and things.  Mrs. Spalding's
abaht, if ye'd like to see 'er, sir."

He opened the gate for Tony, and they walked up the narrow cobbled
path which led to the house.  The front door was ajar, and just as
they entered Mrs. Spalding appeared in the passage, with a can of hot
water in her hand.  She put it down on seeing Tony, and with her
usual air of slightly flustered deference, opened the door of
Isabel's sitting-room, and invited him to "step inside."

"I am not going to keep you up, Mrs. Spalding," he said cheerfully.
"I only came round in answer to Bugg's letter.  It struck me that you
might possibly be feeling a little nervous, and I shouldn't like to
think that you were being worried in any way about my affairs."

His consideration evidently touched Mrs. Spalding deeply.

"Oh, please to put your mind at ease about that, Sir Antony," she
observed.  "As long as Bugg's on the premises it doesn't frighten me
if people choose to hang about outside the house."

"Of course," said Tony, pursuing his advantage, "if you would rather,
I could probably arrange to get rooms for Miss Francis somewhere
else.  The only thing is her guardian would most certainly find out,
and Heaven knows what might happen to her then!"

The good woman made a gesture of protest.  "You mustn't think of it,
Sir Antony," she declared.  "I wouldn't never forgive myself if that
sweet young lady was got back by them foreigners.  I've taken a rare
liking to her, Sir Antony, and it's an honour and a pleasure to be of
any assistance.  I was saying as much to Spalding to-night, an' he
agreed with me every word."

Tony launched an inward blessing on Spalding's philosophic theories
about matrimonial happiness.

"Well, if you both feel like that," he said, "I shall go on taking
advantage of your kindness.  It won't be for long, because Miss
Francis' aunt is bound to be coming back soon.  In the
meanwhile,"--he turned to include Bugg, who, with his usual tact, had
remained modestly on the doorstep, "we will soon put a stop to this
spying business.  I am not going to have dirty looking people popping
in and out behind trees anywhere near my house.  The rates are much
too high to put up with that sort of thing."  He stopped to take
another puff at his cigar, which he had nearly allowed to go out.  "I
suppose Miss Francis has gone to bed?" he asked.

Mrs. Spalding nodded.  "It's what you might call tiring
work--shopping is, Sir Antony, especially when a young lady's used to
having most things done for her, as I can see Miss Francis is."  She
paused.  "I was just taking her up some hot water when you came in,"
she added.

"Really," said Tony; "well, we mustn't keep it waiting about or it
will be losing its character."  He turned towards the door.  "By the
way," he added, "you might tell Miss Francis that if she would care
for a motor drive to-morrow I should be delighted to take her.  I
daresay she will be coming round in the morning and we can fix up the
time then."

Mrs. Spalding promised to deliver the message, and wishing her
good-night, Tony sauntered off down the drive, with his hand on
Bugg's shoulder.  They came to a halt at the gate.

"It's an undignified position for the future champion of England to
be acting as a watch-dog, Bugg," he said, "but having put our hands
to the plough--"  He broke off and remained for a moment or two
thoughtfully contemplating the star-spangled stretch of firmament
which was visible between the trees.

With an expression of patient interest, Bugg waited for him to
continue.

"Let us summarize the situation, Bugg," he said gravely.  "Then we
shall know exactly where we are."  He paused.  "For some reason,
which I don't understand any more than you do at present, those two
gentlemen we had the pleasure of introducing ourselves to in Long
Acre appear to be very anxious to meet Miss Francis alone.  Well, she
doesn't want to be met, and considering their faces I sympathize with
her taste.  That's all we know, and until we can find out something
more there doesn't seem very much to be done.  We must just keep Miss
Francis properly watched and guarded, and see if we can pick up any
information about our pals outside."  He paused again.  "I think it's
just on the cards we might have a little quiet fun with them before
long, Bugg," he added pensively.

Bugg gave an appreciative grin and nodded his head.  "You can leave
the watchin' and guardin' part to me, sir.  They won't get no talk
with the young laidy--not while she's in this 'ouse."

"I believe you, Bugg," said Tony, "and to-morrow morning, when she
comes to Goodman's Rest, you might walk across the Heath with her."
He opened the gate and stepped out on to the pavement.  "Good-night,"
he added.  "I shall go back to bed now.  To be really successful as a
knight errant one requires plenty of sleep."

"Yes, sir," said Bugg.  "Good-night, sir."

It was exactly a quarter to eleven by the big oak clock in the hall
when Tony re-entered his house.  He shut the front door behind him,
and walking across looked into the dining-room and study to see if
Guy were still up.  Both rooms were empty, and he was just on the
point of going upstairs when the silence of the house was suddenly
broken by the sharp, aggressive ringing of a bell.

It came from the telephone which hung beside the mantelpiece on the
further side of the hall.




CHAPTER VIII

AFFAIRS IN LIVADIA

Tony retraced his steps and took down the receiver.

"Hullo!" he said.

"Hullo!" came back a silvery answer.  "Is that you, Tony?"

"It is.  Who's speaking?"

"It's me."

"Really!" said Tony.  "Which me?  I know several with beautiful
voices."

A little ripple of laughter floated down the wire.  "Don't be funny,
Tony.  It's Molly--Molly Monk.  I want to see you."

"The longing is a mutual one," observed Tony.  "I was just going to
bed, but it's a morbid custom.  Suppose I come along in the car
instead and take you out to supper?"

"I'd love it," answered Molly regretfully, "but I'm afraid it can't
be done.  I have promised to go on and sing at one of Billy
Higginson's evenings.  He is the only composer in London who can
write a tune."  She paused.  "What about to-morrow?"

"To-morrow," said Tony, "is also a day."

"Well, I am going out to lunch, but I do want to see you if you could
manage it.  Couldn't you run over in the car and look me up some time
in the morning?  I'll give you a small bottle of champagne if you
will."

"I don't want any bribing," said Tony with dignity.  "Is it good
champagne?"

"Very good," said Molly.  "It's what I keep for dramatic critics."

"I think I might be able to come then.  What is it you want to see me
about?"

"Oh, I'll tell you to-morrow," came back the answer.  "I really
mustn't stop now because Daisy Grey's waiting for me in her car.
Thanks so much.  It's awfully dear of you, Tony.  Good-night."

"Good-night," said Tony, and replacing the receiver upon its hook, he
resumed his interrupted progress to bed.

It was just after half-past ten the next morning, when Guy, while
busily engaged in drawing up a lease in his office, was interrupted
by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called out, and in answer to his summons, Tony, wearing
a grey plush hat and motoring gloves, sauntered into the room.  He
looked round with an air of leisurely interest.

"Good-morning, Guy," he said.  "I like interrupting you at this time.
I always feel I am throwing you out for the entire day."

Guy laid down his pen.

"It's a harmless delusion," he observed, "and if it gets you out of
bed----"

"Oh, that didn't get me out of bed.  It was an appointment I have to
keep."  He walked across to the fireplace and helped himself to a
cigarette from a box on the mantlepiece.  "Are you feeling in a
sympathetic mood this morning, Guy?"

The latter shook his head.  "Not particularly.  Why?"

Tony struck a match.  "Well, it's like this.  I have invited our
cousin Isabel to come round and see me, and now I find myself
unexpectedly compelled to go out.  What's more I don't know how long
it will be before I get back."  He paused and looked at Guy with a
mischievous twinkle in his eye.  "Do you think I can trust you to be
kind and gentle with her?"

Guy adjusted his pince-nez and looked across at Tony with some
sternness.

"I have already told you, Tony," he said, "that I disapprove very
strongly of this impossible escapade of yours.  You don't know what
trouble it may lead you into.  For a man who wants to get into
Parliament any kind of scandal is absolutely fatal."

"But I don't want to go into Parliament," objected Tony.  "I am doing
it to oblige Henry, and for the good of the nation.  As for
this--what was the beautiful word you used, Guy--'escapade'--you
surely wouldn't have me back out from motives of funk?"

Guy shrugged his shoulders.  "You can please yourself about it," he
said, "but it's no good asking me to help you.  As I've told you
before, I decline to mix myself up with it in any way."

"But you can't," persisted Tony; "at least not without being horribly
rude.  I have introduced you to Isabel and she thinks you're
charming.  She will be sure to ask for you when she hears I am out."
He paused.  "You wouldn't be a brute to her would you, Guy?  You
wouldn't throw her out of the house or anything like that?"

Guy's lips tightened.  "I should certainly let her see that I
disapproved very strongly of the whole episode," he said.  "Still you
needn't worry about that, because I have not the least intention of
meeting her."

He picked up his pen and began to resume his work.

"Yours is a very hard nature, Guy," said Tony sadly.  "I think it's
the result of never having known a woman's love."

To this Guy did not condescend to answer, and after looking at him
for a moment with a grieved expression, Tony sauntered downstairs to
the front door.

Outside stood the Hispano-Suiza--a long, slim, venomous-looking white
car--with Jennings in attendance.  Tony stepped in and took
possession of the wheel.

"I shall probably be back in about an hour, Jennings," he said, "and
very likely I shall be going out again afterwards.  I don't know
which car I shall want, so you had better have them all ready."

Jennings touched his cap with the expression of a resigned lemon ice,
and pressing the electric starter Tony glided off down the drive.

He reached Basil Mansions just on the stroke of eleven.  Leaving the
car in the courtyard he walked across to Molly's flat, where the door
was answered by the beautiful French maid, who looked purer than ever
in the healthy morning sunshine.

As he entered the flat, Molly appeared in the hall.  She was wearing
a loose garment of green silk, caught together at the waist by a gold
girdle.  As a breakfast robe it erred perhaps on the side of the
fantastic, but it had the merit of showing off her red hair to the
best possible advantage.

"You nice old thing, Tony," she said.  "I know you hate getting up
early, too."

"I don't mind if there is anything to get up for," said Tony.  "It's
the barrenness of the morning that puts me off as a rule."

Molly slipped her bare arm through his, and led him into the
sitting-room.

"You shall open the champagne," she said.  "That will give you an
interest in life."

She brought him up to a little satin-wood table, on which stood a
silver tray, with some glasses and a couple of small bottles of
Heidsieek.  Tony looked at the labels.

[Illustration: Tony looked at the labels.  "And do you mean to say,"
he remarked a little reproachfully, "that you really waste this on
dramatic critics?" "I give them the choice," said Molly gravely.
"They can either have that, or hold my hand.  So far, they have
always chosen the champagne."]

"And do you mean to say," he remarked a little reproachfully, "that
you really waste this on dramatic critics?"

"I give them the choice," said Molly gravely.  "They can either have
that, or hold my hand.  So far they have always chosen the
champagne."  She crossed to the sofa and began arranging the
cushions.  "Yank out the cork, Tony," she added, "and then come and
sit beside me.  I want you to give me some of your very best advice."

Tony obeyed her instructions, and filling up the two glasses, carried
the tray across to where Molly was reclining.  He set it down on the
floor within convenient reach, and then seated himself beside her on
the sofa.

"What's the trouble?" he inquired sympathetically.

Molly lighted herself a cigarette, and thoughtfully puffed out a
little cloud of blue smoke.

"It's Peter," she said.  "Something has happened to him; something
serious."

"I know it has," said Tony.  "He had to pay me five hundred of the
best yesterday morning."

Molly shook her head.  "It's not that," she said.  "I know he hates
being beaten at anything; but it wouldn't upset him in the way I
mean."  She wriggled herself into a slightly more comfortable
position.  "I've got a notion it's something much bigger," she added.

"Really!" said Tony with interest.  "What are the symptoms?"

"Well, he was coming to lunch here yesterday at a quarter to two, and
he rang up about one to say he might be a little late.  I thought his
voice sounded a bit funny over the 'phone--you see I know Peter
pretty well by now--and when he rolled up I saw there was something
really serious the matter.  The poor old dear was so worried and
excited he could hardly eat his lunch."

"Sounds bad," admitted Tony.  "Nothing but a desperate crisis can put
Royalty off their food."

Molly nodded.  "I know.  I thought for a moment he might have fallen
in love with somebody else, but it wasn't that either.  Something's
happened, and unless I'm three parts of an idiot it's got to do with
Livadia."

"How exciting!" observed Tony.  "It makes me feel like a secret
service man in a novel."  He paused.  "Why do you think it's Livadia
though?  It might----"

"If it wasn't Livadia," interrupted Molly, "he'd have told me all
about it."

"Why didn't you ask him?"

Molly shook her head.  "It's no good.  He has promised Da Freitas
never to talk about Livadian affairs to anybody, and he's just
sufficiently stupid to keep his word even where I'm concerned.  Of
course I could get it out of him sooner or later, but you can't rush
Peter, and it's a question of time.  There's something going on, and
I want to find out what it is as quick as possible."  She sat up and
looked at Tony.  "That's where you come in," she added.

Tony looked at her in mild surprise.  "I would love to help you if I
could, Molly," he said, "but I'm afraid that any lingering charm I
may have had for your Peter vanished with that five hundred quid he
had to fork out yesterday."

"You can help me all right if you will," said Molly.  She paused.
"Do you remember telling me once about that friend of yours--what's
his name?--the boy who is running a motor business in Portriga?"

The dawn of an understanding began to flicker across Tony's face.

"You mean Jimmy--Jimmy Dale."  He paused.  "If Jimmy can be of any
use you have only got to say so.  I am sure he will do anything I ask
him short of murdering the President."

"It's nothing as difficult as that," said Molly.  "I only want him to
write me a letter."  She bent forward and re-lit her cigarette from
Tony's.  "You see I want to know exactly what's happening out in
Livadia.  I am sure there's trouble on, or Peter wouldn't be so
upset, and a man actually living in Portriga ought to be able to tell
one something."

"Jimmy ought to," said Tony.  "He is by way of being rather a pal of
the President.  He sold him a second-hand Rolls-Royce last year for a
sort of state coach, and the old boy was so pleased with his bargain
he quite took Jimmy up.  They seemed to be as thick as thieves last
time I had a letter--about three months ago."  He paused to finish
his champagne.  "By the way," he added, "I don't believe I have ever
answered it."

"You never do answer letters," said Molly.

"That's why I always telephone."  She got up, and walking across to a
small satin-wood bureau, took out a sheet of paper and an envelope.
"Be a darling and answer it now," she went on.  "Then you can ask
what I want at the same time."

Tony rose in a leisurely manner from the sofa, and coming up to where
she was standing, seated himself in the chair which she had placed in
readiness.  Then he picked up the pen and examined it with some
disapproval.

"I shall ink my fingers," he said.  "I always do unless I have a
Waterman."

"Never mind," said Molly.  "It's in a good cause, and I'll wash them
for you afterwards."

Tony gazed thoughtfully at the paper, and then placing his cigarette
on the inkstand in front of him bent over the desk and set about his
task.  Molly returned to the sofa, and for a few minutes except for
the scratching of the nib, and an occasional sigh from the writer, a
profound silence brooded over the boudoir.

At last, with an air of some relief, Tony threw down the pen, and
turned round in his chair.

"How will this do?" he asked.


MY DEAR JAMES:

I have been meaning to answer your last letter for several months,
but somehow or other I can never settle down to serious work in the
early spring.  I was very pleased to hear that you are still alive,
and mixing in such good society.  I have never met any presidents
myself, but I always picture them as stout, elderly men with bowler
hats and red sashes round their waists.  If yours isn't like this,
don't tell me.  I hate to have my illusions shattered.

I wish anyway that you would come back to London.  You were the only
friend I ever had that I could be certain of beating at billiards,
and you have no right to bury a talent like that in the wilds of
Livadia.

If you will come soon you can do me a good turn.  I am thinking of
opening a garage in Piccadilly on entirely new lines, and I want
someone to manage it for me.  The idea would be that customers could
put up their cars there, and when they came to fetch them they would
find their tools and gasoline absolutely untouched.  I am sure it
would be a terrific success just on account of its novelty.  We would
call it "The Sign of the Eighth Commandment," and we should be able
to charge fairly high prices, because people would be so dazed at
finding they hadn't been robbed that they would never notice what we
were asking.  I am quite serious about this, Jimmy, so come along
back at once before the Livadians further corrupt your natural
dishonesty.

Talking of Livadia, there is something I want you to do for me before
you leave.  I have a young and beautiful friend who takes a morbid
interest in your local politics, and she is extremely anxious to know
exactly what is happening out there at the present time.  I told her
that if there was any really promising villainy in the offing you
would be sure to know all about it, so don't destroy the good
impression of you I have taken the trouble to give her.  Sit down and
write me a nice, bright, chatty letter telling me who is going to be
murdered next and when it's coming off, and then pack up your things,
shake the dust of Portriga off your boots (if you still wear boots)
and come home to

  Your friend and partner,
      TONY.


"That's very nice," said Molly critically.  "I had no idea you could
write such a good letter."

"Nor had I," said Tony.  "I am always surprising myself with my own
talents."

There was a short pause.

"What's Jimmy like?" asked Molly.

Tony addressed the envelope and proceeded to fasten it up.  "He is
quite charming," he said.  "He is chubby and round, and he talks in a
little gentle whisper like a small child.  He can drink fourteen
whiskies without turning a hair, and I don't believe he has ever lost
his temper in his life."

"He sounds a dear," said Molly.  "I wonder you let him go."

"I couldn't help it," said Tony sadly.  "He has some extraordinary
objection to borrowing from his friends, and he owed so much to
everyone else that he had to go away."

"I wonder if he will answer the letter," said Molly.

Tony got up with the envelope in his hand.  "You can be sure of that.
Jimmy always answers letters.  We shall hear from him in less than a
week and I'll come round and see you at once."  He looked at his
watch.  "I am afraid I must be off now, Molly.  I have a very
important engagement with a bishop."

"Rot," returned Molly.  "Bishops never get up till the middle of the
day."

"This one does," said Tony.  "He suffers from insomnia."

Molly laughed, and putting her hands on his shoulders, stood up on
tip-toe and kissed him.

"Well, don't tell him about that," she said, "or he might be jealous."

It was exactly on the stroke of twelve as Tony's car swung in again
through the gate of Goodman's Rest, and came to a standstill outside
the front door.

Leaving it where it was, he walked into the hall and rang the bell,
which was answered almost immediately by Spalding.

"Has Miss Francis arrived yet?" he asked.

Spalding inclined his head.  "Yes, Sir Antony.  She is in the
garden."  He paused.  "Mr. Oliver is with her," he added.

Tony looked up in some surprise.  "Mr. Oliver!" he repeated.  "What's
he doing?"

"I heard him say he would show her the ranunculi, sir," explained
Spalding impassively.

Tony turned towards the study, the window of which opened out on to
the lawn.  The thought of Isabel at the solitary mercy of Guy filled
him with sudden concern.  The latter had evidently changed his mind
about seeing her, and had doubtless taken her into the garden to
express the disapproval he had so sternly enunciated that morning.

Reaching the French window, however, Tony came to a sudden halt.  The
sight that met his eyes was, under the circumstances, a distinctly
arresting one.  Half-way down the lawn was a small almond tree, its
slender branches just then a delicate tracery of pink and white
loveliness.  Guy and Isabel were standing in front of this in an
attitude which suggested anything but the conclusion of a strained
and painful interview.  Isabel was looking up at the blossoms with
her lips parted in a smile of sheer delight.  A few paces off, Guy
was watching her with an expression of earnest admiration almost as
striking as that which she was wasting upon the almond tree.

For perhaps a couple of seconds, Tony stood motionless taking in the
unexpected tableau.  Then with a faint chuckle he pulled out his case
and thoughtfully lighted himself a cigarette.

As he did so, Guy stepped forward to the tree, and breaking off a
little cluster of blossom rather clumsily offered it to Isabel.  She
took the gift with a graceful little gesture, like that of a princess
accepting the natural homage of a subject, and smiling her thanks as
Guy proceeded to fasten it in her dress.

It seemed to Tony that this was a very favourable moment for making
his appearance.  He opened the glass door, and walking down the
steps, sauntered quietly towards them across the lawn.

They both heard him at the same instant, and turned quickly round.
Isabel gave a little exclamation of pleased surprise, while Guy's
face assumed a sudden expression of embarrassment that filled Tony
with delight.  He looked at them gravely for a moment, and then
lifting up Isabel's hand lightly kissed the pink tip of one of her
fingers.

"Good-morning, Cousin Isabel," he said.  "I am sorry to be late.  I
hope Guy hasn't been unkind to you."

"Unkind!" repeated Isabel, opening her eyes.  "Why he has been
charming.  He has been showing me the garden."  She looked across at
Guy with that frank, curiously attractive smile of hers.  "I don't
think we have quarrelled once, have we, Mr. Guy?"

"Certainly not," said Guy with what seemed unnecessary warmth.

"I am so glad," observed Tony contentedly.  "It always distresses me
when relations can't get on together."  He let go Isabel's hand and
looked at his watch.  "How do you feel about a run in the car?" he
inquired.  "It's just ten minutes past twelve now, and we could get
to Cookham comfortably for lunch by one o'clock."

"I should love it," said Isabel gaily.  "I don't know in the least
where Cookham is, but it sounds a splendid place to lunch at."

Tony looked at her with approval.  "I am glad you like making bad
puns, Isabel," he said.  "It's a sure sign of a healthy and
intelligent mind."

He led the way round to the front of the house, where they found the
Hispano-Suiza still decorating the drive, with Jennings bending over
the open bonnet.  The chauffeur looked up and grudgingly touched his
cap as they approached.

"Came down to see if you would be wanting either of the other cars,"
he observed.

"What do you think, Isabel?" inquired Tony.  "Will this do, or would
you rather have something more comfortable?"

She glanced with admiration over the tapering lines of the slim
racing body.  "Oh, let's have this one," she said.  "I love to go
fast."

Guy gave a slight shudder.  "For goodness' sake don't say that to
Tony.  It's a direct encouragement to suicide."

Isabel laughed cheerfully.  She seemed quite a different person from
the highly strung, frightened girl whom Tony had rescued in Long Acre.

She buttoned her coat, and stepped lightly into the seat alongside of
Tony, who had already taken his place at the wheel.

"As a matter of cold truth," he observed, "I am a very careful
driver.  If there's likely to be trouble I never run any unnecessary
risks, do I, Jennings?"

"I can't say, sir," replied Jennings sourly.  "I always shuts me
eyes."

Isabel laughed again and settling herself comfortably back in the
seat, waved her hand to Guy as the car slid off down the drive.

Tony always drove well, but like most good drivers he had his
particular days.  This was certainly one of them.  During the earlier
part of the journey, from Hampstead to Hammersmith, his progress
verged upon the miraculous.  The Hispano glided in and out of the
traffic like some slim white premiere danseuse threading her way
through the mazes of a ballet, the applause of an audience being
supplied by the occasional compliments from startled bus-drivers
which floated after them through the receding air.

Isabel seemed to enjoy it all immensely.  She had evidently spoken
the truth when she said she was not nervous "in that way," for the
most hair-breadth escapes failed to disturb her serenity.  She had
the good sense not to talk much until they were clear of the worst
part of the traffic, but after that she chatted away to Tony with
practically no trace of the embarrassment and shyness that she had
hitherto displayed.  Whatever her mysterious troubles might be, she
seemed for the time to have succeeded in throwing them off her mind.

There being no particular hurry, and thinking that Isabel would enjoy
the drive, Tony did not take the direct road for Maidenhead.  He
crossed Hammersmith Bridge and turned off into Richmond Park, which
just then was in all the fresh green beauty of its new spring costume.

They were three-quarters of the way through and were rapidly
approaching the town, when quite suddenly Isabel, who up till then
had apparently been taking little notice of where they were going,
broke off abruptly in the middle of what she was saying.

"Why!" she stammered; "isn't--isn't this Richmond Park?"

Tony looked at her in mild surprise.  "Yes," he said.  "I came round
this way for the sake of the run."  He paused.  "What's the matter?"
he added, for all the colour and animation had died out of her face.

"I--I'd rather not go through Richmond," she faltered, "if--if it's
all the same to you."

Tony slackened down the pace to a mere crawl.  "Why of course," he
said.  "We will do exactly what you like.  I didn't know----"

The sentence was never finished.  With a sudden little gasp Isabel
shrank back in the car, cowering against him almost as if she had
been struck.

The cause of her alarm was not difficult to discover.  A well-dressed
elderly man who had been walking slowly towards them with his head
down, had suddenly pulled up in the roadway and was staring at her in
a sort of incredulous amazement.  Although Tony had only seen him
once before, he recognized him immediately.  It was the agitated
gentleman who had been talking to Da Freitas in the hall of the Club
on the previous morning.

For perhaps a second he remained planted in the road apparently
paralysed with amazement: then with a sudden hoarse exclamation of
"Isabella!" he took a swift stride towards the car.

Isabel clutched Tony by the arm.

"Go on," she whispered faintly.

"Stop, sir!" bellowed the stranger, and with surprising agility for
one of his age and dignified appearance, he hopped upon the step and
caught hold of the door.

Tony didn't wait for any further instructions.  Freeing his arm
quietly from Isabel he leaned across the car, and with a sudden swift
thrust in the chest sent the intruder sprawling in the roadway.

At the same moment he jammed on the accelerator, and the well-trained
Hispano leaped forward like a greyhound from its leash.




CHAPTER IX

A RUN-AWAY QUEEN

A morbid regard for the exact speed limit was never one of Tony's
failings, and he covered the short distance that separated them from
the end of the park in what was probably a record time for that
respectable stretch of fairway.

He slackened down a little on reaching the gates, but as luck would
have it there was no one about to obstruct his progress, and in a
graceful curve he swept out on to the main road.

Then with a laugh he turned to Isabel.

"I love going about with you, Isabel," he said.  "One never knows
what's going to happen next."

She made no answer, but rising slightly in her seat cast a quick,
frightened glance over her shoulder as if to see whether they were
being followed.

"It's quite all right," went on Tony comfortingly.  "I don't know who
your friend is, but we shan't be seeing him again to-day."

"That," said Isabel faintly--"that was my uncle."

"Really!" said Tony.  "He seems very impulsive."

He paused for a moment while the Hispano neatly negotiated a rather
dazzled-looking cluster of pedestrians, and then turning again to his
companion he added consolingly: "Don't let it worry you, Isabel.
Lots of charming people have eccentric uncles."

She made a little protesting gesture with her hands.  "Oh, no, no,"
she said almost piteously, "I can't go on like this.  I must tell you
the whole truth.  I ought to have done so right at the beginning."

"Just as you like," replied Tony, "but hadn't we better wait till we
have had some food.  It's so much easier to tell the truth after a
good meal."

She nodded rather forlornly, and without wasting any further
discussion on the matter, Tony turned away to the right and headed
off in the direction of Cookham.  He continued to talk away to Isabel
in his easy, unruffled fashion exactly as if nothing unusual had
occurred, and by the end of the first mile or so she had pulled
herself together sufficiently to answer him back with quite a
passable imitation of her former good spirits.  All the same it was
easy to see that underneath this apparent cheerfulness she was in
almost as nervous a state as when he had first met her in Long Acre.

They reached Cookham, and slowing down as the car entered its
pleasant, straggling main street, Tony turned into the courtyard of
the Dragon.  A large, sombre-looking dog attached to a chain greeted
his appearance with vociferous approval; a welcome which, in spirit
at all events, was handsomely seconded by the smiling proprietress,
who a moment later made her appearance through the side door.  Tony
was distinctly popular at riverside hotels.

"How do you do, Miss Brown?" he said.

"Very well, thank you, Sir Antony," she replied.  "And you, sir?  Lie
down."

The latter observation was addressed to the dog.

"I am suffering from hunger," observed Tony.  "Do you think you can
make any nice suggestion about lunch?"

The landlady paused reflectively.

"I can give you," she said, "some trout, a roast duckling, and marrow
on toast."

Tony looked at her for a moment in speechless admiration.  "My dear
Miss Brown," he said, "that isn't a suggestion.  That's an outburst
of poetry."  He turned to Isabel apologetically.  "Roast duckling,"
he explained, "is one of the few things that make me really excited."

She laughed--a little gay, frank, natural laugh that Tony was
delighted to hear.  "I think all men are greedy," she said.  "At
least all the men I've ever known have been."

Tony nodded.  "It's one of the original instincts of humanity," he
observed thoughtfully.  "We have to be greedy in self-defence.  A man
who isn't is bound to be beaten by a man who is.  It's what Darwin
calls the survival of the fattest."  He turned back to the landlady
who had been listening to him with a placid smile.  "Send us a couple
of cocktails into the dining-room, will you, Miss Brown," he said.
"It would be wicked to rush at a lunch like that without any
preparation."

All through the meal, which was served in a pleasant room looking out
into a quaint old courtyard garden at the back, Tony kept the
conversation in the same strain of impersonal philosophy.  It was not
until the marrow on toast had gone the way of all beautiful earthly
things that he made any reference to Isabel's promised revelation.

"What do you say to having coffee outside?" he suggested.  "There's a
nice place where we can sit in the sun and you can tell me about your
uncle.  One should never discuss one's relations in a public
dining-room."

Isabel contented herself with a nod, and after giving their
instructions to the waiter, they strolled out through the open French
window, and made their way to a rustic bench at the farther end of
the garden.

It was a delightfully warm, peaceful spring day, and the perfume of
the hyacinths and daffodils that were in full bloom almost
overpowered the slight odour of petrol from the neighbouring garage.

"It's a curious coincidence," observed Tony, as the waiter retired
after placing their coffee on a small table beside them, "but as a
matter of fact I feel in exactly the right frame of mind for
listening to the truth.  I expect it's that bottle of burgundy we
had."

He struck a match and held it out to Isabel, who, bending forward,
lighted the cigarette which she had been twisting about between her
fingers.

"It's--it's dreadfully difficult to tell things," she said, sitting
up and looking at him rather helplessly.  "I haven't the least notion
how to begin."

"Of course it's difficult," said Tony.  "Nothing requires so much
practice as telling the truth.  It's against every civilized impulse
in human nature." He paused.  "Suppose we try the catechism idea for
a start.  I ask you 'what is your name?' and you say 'Isabel
Francis.'"

She shook her head.  "But--but it isn't," she faltered.  "It's--it's
Isabella, and there are about eight other names after it."

Tony looked at her in surprise.  "Why that's exactly the complaint I
am suffering from.  I thought it was peculiar to baronets and
superfluous people of that sort."

"Well, the fact is," began Isabel; then she stopped.  "Oh, I know it
sounds too utterly silly," she went on with a sort of hurried
desperation, "but you see the fact is I--I'm a queen."

She brought out the last three words as if she were confessing some
peculiarly shameful family secret.

Tony slowly removed his cigarette from his lips.

"A what?" he inquired.

"Well, not exactly a queen," said Isabel, correcting herself hastily.
"In a way I am, you know.  I mean I ought to be.  At least that's
what they say."  She broke off in a charming confusion that made her
look prettier than ever.

Tony leaned back in the seat and contemplated her with deep enjoyment.

"You grow more perfect every minute, Cousin Isabel," he said.  "Don't
hurry yourself, but just tell me quite slowly and deliberately who
you really are."

Isabel took a long breath.  "My father was Don Francisco of Livadia,
and some people say I ought to be the queen."

Tony was not easily surprised, but for once in his life he sat up as
if he had been struck by an electric shock.  Even his trusty powers
of speech were temporarily numbed.

He had of course heard of Don Francisco--that persistent gentleman
who for twenty years had indulged in spasmodic and ineffectual
efforts to wrest the throne of Livadia from Pedro's father.  But that
Isabel should be his daughter, and what was more the apparently
recognized heir to his royal claims, was one of those staggering
surprises for which the English language contains no adequate comment.

For a moment he remained gazing at her in the blankest astonishment;
then the full humour of the situation suddenly came home to him, and
he broke into a long chuckle of delighted amusement.

Isabel watched him sympathetically out of her amber eyes.

"It's quite true," she said.  "I know it sounds absurd, but it's
quite true."

"I don't think it's the least absurd," said Tony, who had now
completely recovered his normal composure.  "I think it's the most
beautifully reasonable thing that's ever happened.  Of course you are
a queen, or ought to be a queen.  I felt that the moment I met you."
He paused, and taking out his case lighted himself a fresh cigarette.
"It was the Livadian part of the business that knocked me out so
completely," he explained.

Isabel nodded her head.  "I know," she said.  "I heard you say that
you knew Pedro and Da Freitas.  That was one of the things that made
me feel I ought to tell you."

"It only shows," remarked Tony with quiet satisfaction, "that the
Early Christian Fathers were quite right.  If one has faith and
patience one generally gets what one wants sooner or later.  All my
life I have had a secret craving to be mixed up in some really
high-class conspiracy; with kings and queens and bombs and wonderful
mysterious people crawling about trying to assassinate each other.  I
was just beginning to be afraid that all that kind of thing was
extinct."  He drew in a long mouthful of smoke, and let it filter out
luxuriously into the still, warm air.  "How very fortunate I happened
to be in Long Acre, wasn't it?"

"I am so glad you feel like that," said Isabel happily.  "I was
afraid you wouldn't want to help me any more when you knew all about
it."

"But I don't know all about it yet," objected Tony.  "Hadn't you
better begin right at the beginning and tell me everything?"

For a moment Isabel hesitated.

"Well," she said slowly.  "I suppose that what you would call the
beginning--the real beginning--was a long time before I was born.
You see my grandfather always had an idea that he ought to be king of
Livadia, because he said there was something wrong about somebody's
marriage or something back in sixteen hundred and fifty--at least I
think that was the date."

"It was a very careless century," said Tony.

"He didn't bother much about it himself," went on Isabel, "because he
hated Livadia and liked to live in Paris or London.  Besides I think
they made him an allowance to keep out of the country.  Father was
quite different.  He always wanted to be a king, and directly my
grandfather died, he started doing everything he could to get what he
called 'his rights.'"

"I can never understand any intelligent man wanting to be a king,"
observed Tony thoughtfully.  "One would have to associate entirely
with successful people, and they are always so horribly busy and
conceited."

"But father wasn't intelligent," explained Isabel, "not in the least
little bit.  He was just obstinate.  He was quite certain he ought to
be a king, and you know when you are quite certain about a thing
yourself, however silly it is, there are always lots of others who
will agree with you."  She paused.  "Besides," she went on, "after
the old King died and Pedro's father came to the throne, things were
quite different in Livadia.  The taxes went on going up and up, and
the country kept on getting poorer and poorer, until at last a
certain number of people began to wonder whether it wouldn't be
better to have a change.  I don't think they thought much of father.
I suppose they just felt he couldn't be worse anyhow."

"I like your historical sense, Isabel," observed Tony.  "It's so free
from prejudice."

Isabel accepted the compliment with perfect simplicity.  "You see I
knew father," she said frankly.  "He would have made a very bad king;
he was always getting intoxicated."

Tony nodded.  "Nearly all exiled monarchs are addicted to drink.
They find it necessary to keep up their enthusiasm."

"But it wasn't only a question of drinking in father's case," went on
Isabel.  "People wouldn't have minded that very much; you see they
are so used to it in Livadia.  It was the way he quarrelled with
everyone afterwards that spoilt his chances.  At one time he had
almost as big a following as the King, but after a bit most of them
gave him up as hopeless.  Then someone started the idea of a
Republic.  It was quite a small party at first, but people drifted
into it gradually from both sides until in the end it was the
strongest of the three.  Father wouldn't give up for a long time.  He
was a frightfully obstinate man, and I don't think he knew what it
meant to be afraid.  That was one of his best points.  He kept on
until nearly everyone who stuck to him had been killed, and then at
last he got badly wounded himself, and only just managed to escape
over the frontier."

"And what were you doing all this crowded time?" inquired Tony.

"I," said Isabel, "oh, I was living in Paris with my governess, Miss
Watson."

"What--the missing lady of Long Acre?"

Isabel nodded.  "She looked after me for fifteen years.  You see,
father had spent a good deal of time in London when he was young, and
he always said that English women were the only ones you could trust
because they were so cold.  So when my mother died, he engaged Miss
Watson and put me in her charge altogether."

"Judging by the results," observed Tony, "it seems to have been a
happy choice."

"She's a dear," said Isabel with enthusiasm, "an absolute dear.  I
don't know what I should have been like without her, because father
always insisted on his own people treating me as if I was a real
princess, and we never saw any one else.  If it hadn't been for her,
I should probably have believed everything they told me."  She paused
for a moment as though reflecting on this narrow but fortunate
escape, and then straightening herself in the seat, she added: "I was
really quite happy until Uncle Philip sent her away."

"Is Uncle Philip our impetuous friend of Richmond Park?" inquired
Tony.

"That's him," said Isabel, with a queenly disregard for grammar.  "He
is my mother's brother, and his real name is the Count de Sé.  He
came to live with us in Paris after father was wounded.  He is a
nasty, mean, hateful sort of man, but father liked him because he was
the only person left who treated him like a king.  Poor father was
nearly always drunk in those days, and I don't think he really knew
what he was doing.  Uncle Philip used to talk to him and flatter him
and all that sort of thing, and at last he got father to make a will
appointing him as my guardian.  The very first thing he did, as soon
as father died, was to send away Miss Watson."

"I don't think I like Uncle Philip," said Tony.  "I am glad I pushed
him off the car."

"So am I," said Isabel with surprising viciousness.  "I only hope he
hurt himself.  He did fall in the road, didn't he?" she added
anxiously.

"I think so," said Tony.  "It sounded like it anyway."

"I can't help feeling horrid about him," she went on.  "It is all his
fault that any of this has happened."

"I am glad to hear something in his favour," said Tony.

"Oh, I don't mean my being here and knowing you.  I love that part of
it.  I mean Richmond and Pedro and Da Freitas, and--and--oh, all the
hateful, ghastly time I have had the last month."

She broke off with a slight shiver, as though the very memory were
physically unpleasant.  Tony smoked his cigarette in sympathetic
silence until she felt ready to continue.

"You see," she began, "after Miss Watson was sent away there was no
one to help me at all.  Uncle Philip wouldn't let me have any money,
and the only person I could talk to was a horrible old Frenchwoman
who spied on me all the time like a cat.  I had a year of that, and
then one day Uncle Philip told me that he had taken a house for us at
Richmond in England, and that we were going over to live there at
once.  I didn't mind.  Anything seemed better than Paris, and of
course I had no idea what his real plans were."

There was a short pause.

"It didn't take me long to find out," she went on bitterly.  "The day
after we arrived, I was sitting in the drawing-room when who should
come in but Uncle Philip and the Marquis da Freitas.  You can imagine
how astonished I was when Uncle introduced him.  Of course I had
always been brought up to look on him as the worst enemy we had.
Well, he bowed and he smiled and he paid me a lot of compliments, and
then he said that now Livadia was a republic it was only right that
the two branches of the royal family should be friends.  He kept on
telling me how anxious King Pedro was to make my acquaintance, and at
last it came out that he and the King were living in Richmond and
that we were invited over to dinner the next night.

"Even then," she continued slowly, "I didn't guess what was behind it
all.  It was only when he was gone and I was alone with Uncle that I
found out the truth."

She paused.

"Yes?" said Tony.

Isabel took another long breath.

"They had arranged for a marriage between me and Pedro, and it was to
come off in a couple of months."

A low surprised whistle broke from Tony's lips.

"By Jove!" he said softly.  "By Jove!"

For a moment he remained contemplating Isabel with a sort of grave
enjoyment; then abandoning his cigarette he sat up straight in the
seat.

"This," he observed, "is undoubtedly a case of predestination.  It
must have been arranged millions of years ago that I should be in
Long Acre on that particular evening."

"Perhaps it was," said Isabel.  "Anyway I shouldn't have married
Pedro whatever happened.  I made up my mind about that the first time
I saw him."

"Did you tell him?" asked Tony.

"I told Uncle Philip as soon as we got home.  Of course he was very
angry, but I don't think he took me seriously.  He just said it
didn't make any difference--that whether I liked it or not I should
have to be married, so I had better get used to the idea as quickly
as possible."

Tony nodded his head thoughtfully.

"It all fits in perfectly except one thing," he said.  "I can't quite
see what your uncle and Da Freitas hope to get out of it.  They must
both have some notion at the back of their beautiful heads."

"That's what I don't understand," said Isabel in a puzzled voice.
"Anyhow it's all their arrangement.  Pedro doesn't want to marry me
really--not a little bit.  He is only doing it because Da Freitas
tells him to."  She hesitated.  "If it hadn't been for that I
couldn't have stood it as long as I did."

"How long was it?" asked Tony sympathetically.

"Just three weeks.  The day after that first dinner Da Freitas came
over again, and made a sort of formal proposal.  I told him quite
plainly I wouldn't, but it didn't make any difference.  Uncle Philip
declared that I was shy, and didn't know what I was talking about,
and Da Freitas said in his horrid oily way that he was quite sure
when I got to know Pedro better I would love him as much as he loved
me.  I saw it was no good saying anything else, so I just made up my
mind I would run away."

Tony looked at her approvingly.  "You are extraordinarily practical,"
he said, "for the daughter of an exiled monarch."

"There was nothing else to do," replied Isabel; "but it wasn't easy.
You see I had no money and Uncle never let me go out alone.  Wherever
I went I always had Suzanne the old Frenchwoman with me.  The only
person I could think of who might be able to help me was Miss Watson.
When she left she had given me her address in London, and I knew she
would do anything she could because she hated Uncle Philip almost as
much as I did.  I wrote her a little note and carried it about with
me in my dress for days, but I never got a chance to post it.  Well,
things went on like that till last Monday.  I was feeling hateful,
because Pedro had been to dinner the night before, and I think he'd
had too much to drink.  Anyhow he had wanted to kiss me afterwards,
and there had been a frightful row, and everyone had been perfectly
horrid to me.  In the morning Uncle started again.  He told me that
he and the Marquis da Freitas had decided to put a stop to what he
called my 'nonsense,' and that they were making arrangements for me
and Pedro to be married immediately.  I felt miserable, but I wasn't
going to argue any more about it, so I just said nothing.  He went
over there about half-past six in the evening and I was left alone in
the house with Suzanne.  They wouldn't trust me to be by myself at
all, except at night, when I was always locked in my bedroom."

She stopped to push back a rebellious copper-coloured curl which had
temporarily escaped over her forehead.

"We were sitting in the drawing-room," she went on, "and Suzanne was
knitting, and I was supposed to be reading a book.  I wasn't really,
because I was too miserable to think about anything.  I was just
sitting doing nothing when I happened to look up, and there I saw
half-a-crown on the writing-desk opposite.  I suppose it must have
been Suzanne's.  Well, I looked at it for a moment, and then all of a
sudden I made up my mind.  I got up out of the chair, and walked
across the room as if I was going to get something fresh to read.  As
I passed the desk I picked up the half-crown.  I had a horrible
feeling in my back that Suzanne was watching me, but I didn't look
round till I got to the book-case, and then I saw that she was still
knitting away quite peacefully and happily.  I didn't wait any
longer.  I just walked straight on to the door, and before she knew
what was happening, I had slipped out on to the landing and locked
her in."

"Splendid!" said Tony with enthusiasm.  "I can almost hear her
gnashing her teeth."

"She was rather angry," admitted Isabel, "but I didn't pay any
attention to her.  I knew that no one could hear, so I left her to
shout and kick the door and ran straight up to my room.  I was too
excited to bother much about what I took with me.  I just stuffed a
few things in my bag, and then I crept downstairs again, and got out
of the house as quick as ever I could."

"Did you feel afraid?" asked Tony.

"Not till I got to the station.  Then I found I had ten minutes to
wait for a train and that was awful.  I kept on thinking Uncle Philip
would turn up every moment.  I stopped in the ladies' waiting-room as
long as I could, and then I made a dash for the platform and jumped
into the first carriage I came to.  It was full of old women, and
they all stared at me as if I was mad.  I felt horribly red and
uncomfortable, but I wasn't going to get out again, so I just
squeezed into a seat and shut my eyes and let them stare."

"You mustn't blame them," said Tony.  "It's the special privilege of
cats to scrutinize Royalty."

"Oh, I didn't mind really.  I am sort of accustomed to it.  People
used to stare at me in France when I went in a train.  I expect it's
my red hair."  She paused.  "All the same I was glad when we got to
Waterloo.  I was so excited I could hardly breathe till I was past
the barrier, and then I nearly collapsed.  I know now just how an
animal feels when he gets out of a trap."  She turned to Tony.  "You
don't think I'm an awful coward, do you?"

"I think you are as brave as a lion," said Tony.

"I didn't feel it then," she answered.  "I was trembling all over and
my heart was thumping like anything.  I sat down on a seat for a
minute, and then I thought I would go into the refreshment room and
have a cup of tea.  You see I had come away without any dinner."

"You poor dear!" said Tony feelingly.  "Of course you had!"

"Well, I got up from the seat, and I was just looking round to see
where the refreshment room was, when I suddenly caught sight of two
men staring at me like anything."

"What--not our two comic opera pals?" exclaimed Tony.

Isabel nodded emphatically.  "Yes," she said, "that's who it was.
They were standing over by the bookstall talking together.  They
turned away directly I looked at them, but I knew perfectly well they
were watching me.  I had never seen either of them before and it made
me feel horribly frightened again.  I thought that perhaps Uncle had
telephoned up to London, and that they were two policemen who had
come to fetch me back."

"You can always tell an English policeman when he is in plain
clothes," interrupted Tony.  "He looks so fearfully ashamed of
himself."

"I didn't know," said Isabel.  "I was too upset to think much, and
when they came after me into the refreshment room I could simply have
screamed.  I thought they were going to speak to me then, but they
didn't.  They just sat there while I had my tea, and then followed me
out on to the platform.  I asked a porter what was the best way to
get to Long Acre, and he told me to take the tube to Leicester
Square.  I hoped and hoped I'd manage to lose them, but it was no
good.  They came along in the same carriage and got out at Leicester
Square, too."

"I wish I'd been with you," said Tony regretfully.  "I have never
been traced or shadowed or anything like that.  It must be a
wonderful feeling."

"It was awful in the lift," said Isabel.  "I hadn't the least notion
which way to go when I got out, and I felt certain they would come up
and speak to me.  I was so desperate that just as the lift stopped I
turned round to the lady who was standing next me and asked her if
she could show me the way to Long Acre.  You can imagine how pleased
I was when she said she was going in that direction and I could walk
along with her."

"I suppose they crept stealthily after you," said Tony.  "People
always do that in books when they are shadowing anybody."

"I suppose they did," said Isabel.  "I was much too frightened to
look round.  I just walked along with the lady till we got to the
door of the flats, and then I thanked her very much and ran upstairs
as fast as I could.  Miss Watson's number was right at the top of the
building.  There was no bell, so I hammered on the knocker, and then
I stood there panting and trying to get my breath, and thinking every
moment I should hear them coming up the stairs after me.

"Well, I stood there and stood there, and nothing happened, and then
suddenly it came to me as if--oh, just as if somebody had dropped a
lump of ice down inside my dress.  Suppose Miss Watson had left!  You
see I had been so excited about getting away from Richmond I had
never thought of that.  For a second it made me feel quite ill; then
I grabbed hold of the knocker, and I was just beginning to hammer
again, when the door of the opposite flat opened and an old gentleman
came out on to the landing.  He was a fat, cross-looking old man,
with spectacles and carpet slippers, and a newspaper in his hand.  He
said to me: 'It's no good making that horrible noise.  Miss Watson
has gone away for a month, and there's no one in the place.'  Then he
banged the door and went back into the flat."

"Dyspeptic old brute," observed Tony.  "I hope you went on hammering."

"What was the good?" said Isabel with a little despairing gesture.
"I knew he was speaking the truth because I had already made enough
noise to wake up twenty people.  Besides I seemed to have gone all
sort of numbed and stupid.  I had so counted on finding Miss Watson I
had never even begun to think what would happen if she wasn't there."

"It must have been a shattering blow," said Tony.  "I think I should
have burst into tears."

"I couldn't cry; I was too dazed and miserable.  I just leaned where
I was against the wall and wondered what on earth I was to do next.
The only thing I could think of was to go to a hotel.  I had no
money, except what was left out of the half-crown, but I had got my
rings and I knew I could sell them the next day.  It was the two men
outside that I was so frightened of.  I felt certain they were
policemen, and that if I went anywhere they would be sure to follow
me and then telegraph to Uncle Philip where I was.

"I don't know how long I stayed on the landing.  It seemed an age,
but I expect it was only about half an hour really.  I thought that
perhaps if I stopped there long enough they might get tired of
waiting and go away.

"At last I began to feel so cold and hungry and tired I simply
couldn't stand it any longer.  I came downstairs again as far as the
hall, and then I walked across to the door and looked out into the
street.  I couldn't see a sign of anybody waiting about, so I just
sort of set my teeth and stepped out on to the pavement.  I stood
there for a second wondering which way to go, and then almost before
I knew what was happening there I was with my back against the wall,
and those two horrible men in front of me."

She paused with a little reminiscent gasp.

"And the rest of the acts of Isabel and all that she did," began
Tony; then he broke off with a laugh.  "What was it our squint-eyed
friend was actually saying to you?" he asked.

"It wasn't so much what he said," answered Isabel; "it was what he
said it in.  He spoke to me in Livadian."

Tony nodded composedly.  "I thought so," he observed.

"He said: 'Don't be frightened, Madam; we are your friends.'  At
least I think it was that.  I was too upset to listen to him
properly; and the next moment you came."  She drew in a long breath.
"Oh, I was pleased," she added simply.

"So was I," said Tony, "and so was Bugg.  In fact I think we were all
pleased except your friends."  He paused.  "Are you quite sure you
hadn't seen either of them before?"

Isabel nodded.  "Quite," she said.  "I never forget faces; especially
faces like that."

"They _are_ the sort that would linger in one's memory," said Tony.
He got up from the seat and stood for a moment with his hands in his
side-pockets looking thoughtfully down at Isabel.

"Now you know everything," she began hesitatingly.  "Are you--are you
still certain you wouldn't like me to go away?"

"Go away!" repeated Tony.  "My incomparable cousin, what are you
talking about?"

"But just think," she pleaded.  "It may mean all sorts of trouble.  I
don't know who those two men are or what they want, but I've got a
sort of horrible feeling they will find me out again somehow.  And
then there's my uncle and Da Freitas."  She gave a little shiver.
"Oh, you don't know Da Freitas as I do.  There's nothing he will stop
at to get me back--absolutely nothing."

Tony smiled happily.  "I quite believe you," he said.  "I should
think he was a most unscrupulous brute.  People with those smooth
purry voices always are."  Then with that sudden infectious laugh he
took his hands from his pockets and held them out to Isabel, who
after a momentary hesitation put out her own to meet them.  "My dear
Isabel," he said, almost seriously; "haven't you grasped the great
fact that this is the most colossal jest ever arranged by Providence?
I should see it through to the end if I had to get up to breakfast
every day for the rest of my life."  He paused with a twinkle in his
eyes.  "Unless, of course, you really want to be Queen of Livadia."

"Me!" exclaimed Isabel, with the same fine disregard for grammar.
"Why, I never want to see the hateful place again.  There's nothing I
would love better than just to stay with you--I mean of course," she
added hastily, "until Miss Watson comes back."

"Of course," said Tony.

Then suddenly releasing her hands, Isabel too got up from the seat.

"It's only that I don't want to be a trouble or--or an expense," she
added a little confusedly.

"As far as the expense goes," said Tony, "the matter is already
settled.  I have consulted one of the most eminent pawnbrokers in
London, and he tells me that your great-grandmother had a very pretty
taste in jewellery.  There will be no need to pawn the rings.  He let
me have seven thousand pounds on the brooch alone."

"Seven thousand pounds," echoed Isabel with a gasp.  "Oh, but how
lovely!  I can live on that for ever."  She hesitated for a moment.
"They are part of the Royal collection you know.  Pedro gave them to
me when we were betrothed--at least I don't suppose he really meant
me to keep them."

Tony laughed joyously.  "What fun!" he exclaimed.  "I should love to
have seen Da Freitas' face when he heard you had taken them with you.
Though as a matter of fact," he added, "we shall probably see it
quite soon enough, unless Uncle Phil was too agitated to recognize
me."

"Recognize you?" repeated Isabel, opening her eyes.  "Why he has
never seen you before this morning!"

"Yes, he has," said Tony.  "I happened to be in the hall of the Club
yesterday, when he came rushing in to tell Da Freitas that you had
disappeared.  At least I imagine that was what he came for.  He could
hardly have been so beautifully excited about anything else."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Isabel in dismay.  "Then if he saw you in the
car he will be able to find out who you are from Da Freitas."

Tony nodded.  "One can't have all the trumps," he observed
philosophically.  "It would be an awfully dull game if one did."

There was a second's pause.  Then with a sudden impulsive gesture
Isabel clasped her hands together in front of her.

"I don't care," she remarked defiantly.  "I'm not frightened of them.
I don't believe I shall be frightened of anything--not with you to
help me."




CHAPTER X

THE ROYAL ENTERPRISE

The mellow-toned grandfather clock in the corner chimed out the
stroke of nine-thirty as Guy crossed the hall with a bundle of papers
in his hand.  He had reached the foot of the banisters and was
preparing to ascend, when his progress was brought to a sudden
standstill.

Coming down the broad oak staircase, with the inevitable cigarette
between his lips, was the smiling and fully dressed figure of Sir
Antony Conway.

Guy stared at him incredulously.

"Good gracious, Tony!" he observed.  "Do you mean to say you have got
up to breakfast two days running?"

"I have," said Tony with some dignity.  "As the prospective member
for Balham North, I feel it's my duty to be thoroughly English."  He
reached the bottom of the stairs and slipped his arm through his
cousin's.  "I have told Spalding that I will have porridge, eggs and
bacon, marmalade, and a copy of the _Times_," he added.  "Come along
into the study and help me to face them."

"Well, I am pretty busy this morning," said Guy, "but I would
sacrifice a good deal for the sake of seeing you reading the _Times_
and eating a proper healthy breakfast."

"Oh, I don't suppose I shall go as far as that," said Tony.  "I shall
probably only look at them.  There is no point in carrying things to
extremes."

He pushed open the door of the study, where they discovered Spalding
in the act of putting the finishing touches to a charmingly appointed
breakfast table.

With a final glance of approval at his handiwork, that well-trained
servitor stepped back and pulled out a chair for Tony.

"Is everything ready?" inquired the latter.

"Quite ready, Sir Antony," replied Spalding.  "The copy of the
_Times_ is beside your plate, sir.  You will find the engineering
supplement inside."

He brought up another chair for Guy, and then retiring to a small
electric lift in the wall, produced the eggs and bacon and porridge
which he placed on the sideboard upon a couple of carefully trimmed
and already lighted spirit stoves.

"You needn't wait, Spalding," said Tony.  "I like to help myself at
breakfast; it's more in keeping with the best English traditions."

Spalding bowed, and crossing to the door closed it noiselessly behind
him.

Tony began leisurely to pour himself out a cup of tea.

"I suppose you have had your breakfast, Guy?" he observed.

The latter nodded.  "I have," he said, "but if you are going to keep
up this excellent habit of early rising, I shall wait for you in
future."

"Yes, do," said Tony.  "Then we can read out the best bits in the
_Times_ to each other.  Henry and Laura do it every morning at
breakfast."  He took a sip out of the cup and lighted himself a fresh
cigarette.  "By the way," he added.  "I am going to meet them at
lunch to-day."

"Where?" inquired Guy.

"At Aunt Fanny's.  She sent me a sort of S.O.S. call this morning
saying that they were coming and imploring help.  I can't leave her
alone with them.  She is getting too old for really hard work."

"I believe Aunt Fanny deliberately encourages you to laugh at them,"
said Guy severely.

"I don't want any encouragement," protested Tony, helping himself to
a delicately browned piece of toast.

"If I didn't laugh at Laura I should weep."

"You would do much better if you listened a bit more to what they
said.  But of course it's no use offering you any advice."

"Oh, yes, it is," said Tony.  "That's where you wrong me."  He leaned
back in his chair and looked mischievously across at his cousin.  "I
pay the most careful attention to everything you tell me, Guy.  At
the present moment I am seriously thinking of following some advice
you gave me yesterday."

"What about?" asked Guy suspiciously.

Tony broke off a little piece of toast and crunched it thoughtfully
between his teeth.

"About Cousin Isabel," he replied.

Something remarkably like a faint flush of colour mounted into Guy's
face.

"Really!" he observed with an admirable indifference.

Tony nodded gently.  "Certain things which have come to my knowledge
since have made me feel that perhaps you were right in what you said.
I doubt whether I should be justified in risking my political career
for the sake of a passing whim.  After all one has to think of the
country."

Guy looked at him with mistrust.  "You don't suppose I shall swallow
that," he observed.

"It doesn't matter," said Tony sadly.  "I am used to being
misunderstood."  He paused.  "What did you think of Isabel?" he asked.

Guy was evidently prepared for the question.  "I was pleasantly
surprised with her," he admitted.  "She seemed to me a very
attractive girl, and I should think quite straightforward."

Again Tony nodded his head.  "Yes," he said, "I think that's true.
It makes me all the more sorry I can't go on helping her."

"Can't go on helping her!" repeated Guy.  "What do you mean?"

"Well, she told me her history yesterday, and it's not at all the
sort of thing a rising young politician ought to be mixed up with.
She admitted as much herself.  I am afraid the only thing to do is to
get rid of her as quickly as we can."

Guy sat up indignantly.  "I don't know what you are talking about,"
he said, "but I am quite sure you have misunderstood her in some way
or other.  Anyhow what you suggest is impossible.  You can't pick up
people and drop them again in this thoughtless and selfish fashion.
What's the girl to do?  You have chosen to make yourself responsible
for her, and you must arrange to send her back to her people--or
something."

"Unfortunately," said Tony, "there are difficulties in the way.  Her
father and mother are both dead, and her nearest relations are all
out of work for the moment."

"Has she any profession?" asked Guy.

Tony nodded.

"Yes, she's a queen."

There was a short silence.  "A _what_?" demanded Guy.

"A queen!" repeated Tony.  "It's not a profession that I altogether
approve of for women, but she had been brought up to it, and----"

Guy pushed back his chair.  "Look here, Tony," he exclaimed, "what on
earth are you talking about?"

Tony raised his eyebrows.  "Isabel," he explained patiently.  "Cousin
Isabel.  The nice little red-haired girl you were teaching gardening
to yesterday.  She is the only daughter of that late lamented
inebriate--Don Francisco of Livadia."

With a startled ejaculation Guy suddenly sat up straight in his
chair.  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing intelligible
seemed to suggest itself.

"Furthermore," pursued Tony tranquilly, "she is the affianced wife of
our illustrious little pal King Pedro the Fifth.  That of course
explains why she has run away."

By a supreme effort Guy succeeded in regaining his lost powers of
conversation.  His face was a beautiful study in amazement, dismay,
and incredulity.

"But--but--Good Heavens!" he gasped; "This can't be true!  You must
be joking!"

"Joking!" repeated Tony sternly.  "Of course I'm not joking.  No
respectable Englishman ever jokes at breakfast."

Guy threw up his hands with a gesture that was almost tragic.

"Well, if it's true," he observed, "you have just about gone and done
it this time with a vengeance."  He got up from his seat, took a
couple of agitated paces towards the window, and then came back to
the table where the future member for Balham North was still placidly
munching his toast.  "Good Lord, Tony!" he exclaimed; "don't you
understand what a serious matter this is?"

"Of course I do," said Tony.  "You don't suppose I would talk about
it at breakfast otherwise."

"It's more than serious," continued Guy in a strained voice.
"It's--it's the most unholy mess that even you have ever mixed
yourself up in.  If this girl is really who you say she is, we shall
have the whole diplomatic service tumbling over themselves to find
her."  He paused.  "For goodness' sake tell me the whole story at
once; there may possibly be some way out of it after all."

"I don't think there is," said Tony contentedly.  "Of course I could
desert Isabel, but as you have just pointed out to me, that would be
very brutal and dishonourable.  Anyhow, if you will take a pew and
try and look a little less like Sarah Bernhardt, I'll tell you
exactly how things stand.  Then you can judge for yourself."

Guy resumed his seat, and after pausing to light himself a third
cigarette, Tony began to repeat Isabel's romantic history, more or
less as she had described it to him at Cookham on the previous day.
There was a leisurely style about his method that must have been
somewhat provoking to Guy, whose anxiety to hear the whole truth
seemed to be of a painful intensity.  Tony, however, proceeded in his
own unhurried fashion, and by a masterly exhibition of self-control
Guy refrained from any comment or interruption until the entire story
was told.

Then he sat back in his chair with the stony expression of one who
has learnt the worst.

Tony looked at him sympathetically.  "One can't very well get out of
it, can one, Guy?" he observed.  "Of course I might give Isabel a
week's notice, but after the bitter and scornful way you spoke to me
just now about my selfishness I should hardly like to do that.
Besides, as a moral man I strongly disapprove of Pedro's intentions.
I think nobody should be allowed to marry who has not led a perfectly
pure life."

"Oh, shut up," said Guy; "shut up and let me think."  He buried his
forehead in his hands for a moment or two, and then looked up again
with such a harassed appearance that Tony felt quite sorry for him.
"It's--it's worse than I thought," he added despairingly.  "What on
earth do you imagine is going to be the end of it?"

"I haven't the remotest notion," admitted Tony cheerfully.  "The only
thing I have quite made up my mind about is that Isabel shan't be
forced into marrying Pedro."

"I agree with you there," said Guy with sudden warmth. "It's an
infamous proposal.  I can't see what's at the bottom of it either
unless there is still a party in Livadia who believe in her father's
claim.  I thought they were pretty well extinct."  He paused for a
moment, his brow puckered in deep and anxious reflection.  "Anyhow,"
he added, "you have put yourself into a frightfully delicate
position.  Da Freitas will move heaven and earth to find the girl,
and you can be quite sure he will get any possible assistance he asks
for from our people."

"I don't believe he'll ask for any," said Tony.  "I've got a notion
that they want to keep this marriage business as quiet as possible.
Why should they have tried to rush it so, otherwise?  If that's right
they will probably be only too anxious to keep the police out of it,
especially since they have seen Isabel with me."

"But do you think her uncle recognized you?"

"Can't say," replied Tony tranquilly.  "He only saw me for a second
in the hall of the Club, and he was so agitated then that even a
beautiful face like mine might have escaped him.  Still I should
think they were bound to get on our track sooner or later.  That's
the worst of a carelessly built place like London.  One always runs
into the people one doesn't want to meet."

"There are those other men too," said Guy, who was evidently
pondering each point in the problem--"the men who are following her
about.  What do you make of them?"

"I shall have to make an example of them," said Tony firmly.  "I
really can't have dirty foreigners hanging about outside my house.
It's so bad for one's reputation."

"Oh, do be serious for a moment," pleaded Guy almost angrily.  "We
are in this business now, and----"

"_We!_" echoed Tony with pleasure.  "My dear Guy!  Do you really mean
that you're going to lend us your powerful aid?"

"Of course I am," said Guy impatiently.  "I think you were very
foolish to mix yourself up in the affair at all, but since you have
chosen to do it, you don't suppose that I shall desert you.  If ever
you wanted assistance I should say you did now."

Tony leaned across, and taking his cousin's hand, shook it warmly
over the breakfast table.

"Dear old Guy," he observed.  "I always thought that under a rather
forbidding exterior you concealed the heart of a true sportsman."

"Nonsense," returned Guy.  "I am your secretary, and it's my business
to look after you when you make an idiot of yourself."  He paused.
"Besides," he added, "there is the girl to be considered."

Tony nodded.  "Yes," he said, "we must consider Isabel.  By the way I
have never thanked you for being so nice to her yesterday.  She told
me that you were perfectly charming."

For a second time Guy's face assumed a faint tinge of colour.

"One couldn't help feeling sorry for the child when one spoke to
her," he said stiffly.  "It appears to be no fault of her own that
she has been put in this impossible position."  He hesitated for a
moment.  "I hope to goodness, Tony," he added, "that you--you----"

Tony laughed softly.  "It's quite all right," he said.  "Don't be
alarmed, Guy.  My feelings towards Isabel are as innocent as the
dawn."  He glanced at the slim gold watch that he wore on his wrist,
and then in a leisurely fashion got up from his chair.  "I hate to
break up this charming breakfast party," he said, "but I must be off.
I am going to look up Isabel on my way to Aunt Fanny's.  I want to
see how many intruding strangers Bugg has murdered in the night."

Guy also rose to his feet.

"I say, Tony," he said.  "Let us understand each other quite clearly.
However you choose to look at it, this is an uncommonly serious
business--and there are some very ugly possibilities in it.  We can't
afford to treat it as a joke--not if you really want to keep Isabel
out of these people's hands."

Tony nodded his head.  "I know that, Guy," he said.  "I can't help my
incurable light-heartedness, but I can assure you that Cousin Henry
himself couldn't be more deadly serious about it than I am.  I
promise you faithfully I won't play the fool."

"Right you are," said Guy.  "In that case you can count on me to the
utmost."

It was about a quarter of an hour later when Tony pulled up the big
Peugot outside Mrs. Spalding's, and climbing down from his seat
pushed open the gate.  As he did so the door of the house was opened
in turn by Bugg, who presented a singularly spruce and animated
appearance.  His hair had evidently been brushed and brilliantined
with extreme care, and he was wearing a tight-fitting black and white
check suit that reminded one of a carefully made draught-board.

"Good-morning, Bugg," said Tony, as he came up the steps.  "You look
very beautiful."

Bugg saluted with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"I brought along me Sunday togs, Sir Ant'ny; seein' as 'ow I was to
be livin' in the 'ouse with two ladies."

"Quite right, Bugg," said Tony approvingly.  "It's just that
thoughtfulness in small matters that makes the true artist in life."
He paused to pull off his driving gloves.  "Is there any news?" he
asked.

Bugg cast a quick warning glance over his shoulder into the house.

"'Ere's the young laidy, sir," he replied in a hoarse whisper.  "See
yer ahtside after."

He moved away as Isabel came lightly down the stairs, and advanced
along the passage to meet them.

She greeted Tony with just the faintest touch of shyness, and then
led the way into the small sitting-room on the right.

Here she held out her hand to him, and bowing over it with extreme
gravity, Tony kissed the pink tip of one of her fingers.

"I trust your Majesty slept well?" he observed.

She pulled away her hand.  "Oh, please don't tease me," she said.
"You can't imagine how funny I feel about it all."  She paused.  "If
we hadn't met Uncle Philip yesterday, I believe I should have begun
to think the whole thing was a dream."

"Perhaps it is," said Tony.  "Personally I shouldn't be a bit
surprised if I woke up and found Spalding standing by my bed with a
cup of tea."

"It doesn't matter really anyway," said Isabel, "because we are all
dreaming the same thing, aren't we?  You and I and Bugg, and--and
your cousin Mr. Guy."

"Guy certainly is," answered Tony.  "You have made a positively
devastating conquest of poor Guy.  How on earth did you manage to do
it?"

Isabel opened her amber eyes.  "I don't know," she said innocently.
"He was very nice and kind.  I only talked to him and smiled at him."

"Ah, that accounts for it," said Tony solemnly.

He put his hat down and seated himself on the sofa.  "You really
ought to be more careful," he added.  "It isn't fair to go about
bewitching respectable secretaries.  You never know what they may
turn into."

"Have you told him?" asked Isabel.

"Everything," said Tony.  "He is yearning to plunge into the fray and
re-seat you on the throne of Livadia.  I left him practising sword
exercises in the hall."

Isabel laughed, and opening the bag that was lying on the table
beside her took out a little silver cigarette case, which she offered
to Tony.

"Do have one," she said.  "I bought it yesterday afternoon out of the
money you gave me.  It was very extravagant, but I love shopping.
You see I have not been allowed to do any in London."

Tony, who never smoked anything but Virginian tobacco, helped himself
bravely to a gold tipped product of the Turkish Empire, and lit it
with apparent zest.

"All the truest pleasure in life comes from doing things one hasn't
been allowed to do," he observed.  "To enjoy anything properly one
ought to go in for a long course of self-denial first."

"I--I suppose you're right," said Isabel doubtfully, "but it's rather
difficult, isn't it?"

"I should think it was," said Tony.  "I have never tried it myself."
He felt in his pocket for a moment, and then pulled out a cheque
book, which bore the stamped address of the same Hampstead bank at
which he kept his own account.

"This is yours, Isabel," he said handing it across to her.  "I have
paid the money I got for the brooch into your account, so you can go
on shopping as long and fiercely as you like.  Do you know how to
draw a cheque?"

Isabel nodded.  "Oh, yes," she said.  "You just fill it in and write
your name at the bottom, and then they give you the money.  It's
quite easy, isn't it."

"Quite," said Tony.  "All real miracles are."

Isabel slipped away the cheque book into her bag.  Then she looked at
Tony with that half childish and wholly delightful smile of hers.

"Now I am rich," she said.  "I can begin entertaining."  She
hesitated.  "Should I be doing anything very dreadful--I--I mean from
the English point of view--if I asked you to come and have dinner
with me somewhere to-night?"

"Of course you wouldn't," said Tony firmly.  "A queen has an
absolutely free hand about things like that.  It's what is called the
Royal Prerogative.  There is a well established precedent in the case
of Queen Elizabeth and the Earl of Leicester."

"That's all right then," said Isabel in a relieved voice.  "What time
will you come?"

"Quite early," said Tony.  "In fact I think I will come to tea if I
may.  I am lunching with Cousin Henry and his wife and that always
makes me thirsty."  He glanced at his watch, and then got up from the
sofa.  "I mustn't stop any longer now," he added.  "I have several
things to do before I get to Chester Square, and it's so rude to keep
people waiting for lunch.  Besides it spoils the lunch."

Isabel laughed happily, and rising to her feet gave him her hand
again--this time with little or no trace of her former shyness.
Indeed it was difficult to be shy with Tony for any very extended
period.

"I will see that you have some nice tea anyway," she said.  "I will
make it for you myself."

Tony paused for a moment on the threshold of the house to exchange
his Turkish cigarette for a Virginian, and then strolled off down the
garden towards the gate.  As he approached the latter it was opened
for him by "Tiger" Bugg, who had apparently been waiting patiently
beside the car.

"Don't look hup, sir," observed that distinguished welter-weight in a
low earnest voice.  "Jest carry on saime as if we was talkin' abaht
nothin' partic'lar."

With an air of complete indifference Tony strolled across the
pavement to the front of the car and lifted up the bonnet.  Bugg
followed, and bent over the exposed engine beside him, as though
pointing out some minor deficiency.

"There's one of them blokes watchin' of us," continued "Tiger" in the
same confidential tone.  "'E's be'ind the fence opposite.  Bin
'anging arahnd 'ere all the blinkin' morning."

"Really!" said Tony gently.  "Which of them is it?"

"It's the shorter one, sir.  The one I give that flip in the jaw to.
I seen 'im w'en I come aht o' the front door this mornin'.  'E was
doin' a sorter boy scout stunt be'ind the bushes, and I 'ad 'alf a
mind to land 'im with one o' them loose bricks.  Then I remembers wot
you'd said yesterday--abaht lyin' low like--so I jest 'urns a toon
and pretends I 'adn't spotted 'im."

"You have the true instincts of a sleuth, Bugg," observed Tony
approvingly.

"I shouldn't be 'alf surprised if they was both abaht somewhere,"
went on the gratified "Tiger" in a hoarse whisper.  "It's my belief,
sir, that they mean to 'ang arahnd until they sees a chance of
gettin' at the young laidy without no interruptions from us.  I'd bet
a dollar that if I was to clear off the plaice for 'arf an hour,
they'd be shovin' their dirty selves into the 'ouse all
right--some'ow or other."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Tony softly.  "You have given me an idea,
Bugg--a brilliant idea."

He continued to reflect in silence for a moment or two, and then at
last he shut down the bonnet with that particularly pleasant smile of
his which Guy always declared to be the sure harbinger of approaching
trouble.

"I shall return about four o'clock, Bugg," he said.  "I think we may
have an interesting and instructive afternoon ahead of us--thanks to
you."

Bugg sighed happily.  "I'll be 'ere, sir," he observed.  "I'd like to
see that there tall bloke again.  I 'ate leavin' a job 'alf finished."

"And meanwhile," said Tony, "take particular care of Miss Francis.
It's quite possible there may be somebody else wanting to speak to
her privately besides our pals opposite."

Bugg's eyes gleamed.  "It don't make no difference to me, sir, 'ow
many of 'em there is.  Nothin' doin'.  That's my motter as far as
visitors goes."

Tony nodded approvingly, and entering the car started off down the
hill, leaving Bugg standing grimly at the gate, in an attitude that
must have been deeply discouraging to any concealed gentleman who
might be hoping for an early entrance.

After visiting his tailor in Sackville Street, and discharging one or
two other less momentous duties, Tony made his way to Chester Square,
where he pulled up outside Lady Jocelyn's house, exactly as the clock
of St. Peter's was striking one-thirty.

Punctual as he was Laura and Henry had arrived before him.  He heard
the former's rich contralto voice in full swing as the maid preceded
him up the staircase, and it was with that vague feeling of
depression the sound invariably inspired in him that he entered the
charmingly furnished little drawing-room.

Lady Jocelyn, who looked rather like an old ivory miniature, was
sitting on the sofa, and going up to her Tony bent over and kissed
her affectionately.  Then he shook hands with both his cousins.

"I have been hearing the most wonderful things about you, Tony," said
Lady Jocelyn.  "If I didn't dislike veal so much I should certainly
have killed the fatted calf for lunch.  Is it really true that you
are going to become the member for--for--where is it, Laura?"

"Balham North," remarked Laura firmly.

She was a tall fair-haired lady, with thin lips, a masterful nose,
and a pair of relentless blue eyes.

"I believe it's quite true, Aunt Fanny," returned Tony.  "In fact I
understand it has all been arranged except for the formality of
consulting the natives."

"How splendid," said Lady Jocelyn.  "And who are the natives?  I
always thought Balham was still unexplored."

Tony shook his head.  "Oh, no," he said.  "Henry has been right into
the interior.  He can even speak the language--can't you, Henry?"

"There is nothing to laugh at about Balham," said Henry a little
stiffly.  "It is one of the best residential suburbs in London."

"And extremely well educated politically," put in Laura in her clear
incisive voice.  "I have been looking into the matter, and I find
that our various temperance and purity leagues have no less than
seven branches there, and that the reports from all of them are
distinctly encouraging.  On the whole I regard it as one of the must
hopeful constituencies in London."

Lady Jocelyn looked a little puzzled.  "What do they hope for?" she
inquired.

"Lunch, m'lady," remarked the parlour-maid, opening the door.

"In that case," said Tony gravely, "they couldn't have chosen a more
efficient representative."

Like the wise woman she was, Lady Jocelyn always had an excellent
cook, and a single glance at the menu as they settled themselves down
round the table had an inspiriting effect upon the entire party.
Even Laura was not wholly exempt from its influence.  Though a stern
advocate of the superior food value of lentils and beans as far as
the poor were concerned, she herself had a very handsome appreciation
for the less scientific forms of diet.  She ate with enthusiasm and
staying power; after a second helping of mousse of ham and cold
asparagus, she became more affable than Tony had ever seen her.

"I can hardly describe the satisfaction that Tony's decision to stand
has given to Henry and me," she observed to Lady Jocelyn.  "We have
been trying for years to persuade him to do something worthy of his
position.  A life of empty pleasure is such an appallingly bad
example for the poor."

"I am not quite sure that I agree with you there," said Tony.  "I
believe the possibility of being able to live eventually in complete
idleness is one of the few real incentives to hard work.  There ought
to be one or two examples about, so that people can realize how
pleasant that sort of life is."

"You have done your share, Tony," said Lady Jocelyn consolingly.
"You will be able to go to sleep in the House of Commons with a
perfectly clear conscience."

"Of course you are joking, Aunt Fanny," said Henry.  "You are much
too well informed to believe that sort of nonsense.  I doubt if there
is a more arduous profession in the world than being a member of
Parliament--provided of course that a man takes his work seriously.
Tony has promised us that he will do that."

"And we shall be there to keep him up to it," added Laura crisply.

Lady Jocelyn looked at Tony with some sympathy.  "I only hope he
won't break down," she said.  "It's not everyone who can stand these
severe strains."

"Oh, Tony's as sound as a bell," returned Henry a little
contemptuously.  "Hard work will do him all the good in the
world--it's just what he wants.  I have been advising him to take up
some special subject and master it thoroughly before he goes into the
House.  It's the only way to get on quickly nowadays."  He turned to
Tony.  "Have you thought that over at all yet?  I mean do you feel a
special leaning towards any particular question?"

Tony took a long drink of champagne and put down his glass.

"Yes, Henry," he said, "during the last two days I have discovered
that foreign politics have a remarkable attraction for me."

"Foreign politics!" repeated Henry.  "Well, they're an interesting
subject, but I should have thought you would have found them a little
too--too--what shall we say--too remote."

Tony shook his head.  "No," he said, "I haven't found that.  Of
course I don't know very much about them yet, but I expect to be
learning quite a lot before long."

"Well, that's the right spirit anyway," said Henry heartily.  "When I
get back I will instruct my secretary to send you along some White
Books to study.  Remember if there is anything we can do to help
you--introductions you would like or anything of that sort--don't
hesitate to ask us."

"I won't," said Tony.

Harmoniously as matters had been proceeding up to this point, the
remainder of the lunch party was even more of a pronounced success.
It was evident that Tony's sudden and surprising absorption in world
politics was highly approved of both by Henry and Laura, who seemed
to regard it as a sign that he was beginning to take his
Parliamentary career with becoming seriousness.  If at times old Lady
Jocelyn's twinkling black eyes suggested a certain amount of
scepticism in the matter, she at least said nothing to disturb this
pleasant impression, while Tony himself sustained his new rôle with
that imperturbable ease of manner which never seemed to desert him.

It was nearly half-past three before Laura and Henry rose to go, and
then they took their leave with an approving friendliness that
reminded one of a tutor saying good-bye to a promising pupil.

"I will have those White Books sent round at once," said Henry,
warmly shaking his cousin's hand.  "There is a new one just issued
dealing with the Patagonia boundary dispute.  You will find it most
interesting."

"It sounds ripping," said Tony.

"And you needn't worry a bit about your election," added Laura.
"Henry's seat is so safe that I shall be able to give up my entire
time to helping you."

"That _will_ be nice, won't it, Tony?" said Lady Jocelyn innocently.

She rose to her feet with the aid of her ebony stick, and taking
Henry's arm accompanied him and Laura to the head of the staircase,
where she said good-bye to them both.  She then came back into the
room, and closing the door behind her, shook her head slowly and
reprovingly at the future member for Balham North.

"I should like to know exactly what pleasant surprise you are
preparing for them, Tony," she said.

Tony came up, and putting his arm round her, conducted her gently to
her customary place on the sofa.

"I wonder if the Prodigal Son had a sceptical aunt?" he said sadly.

With a little chuckle Lady Jocelyn settled herself into her seat.
"Probably," she replied; "and if she carved the veal I have no doubt
she gave him the best helping."

Tony stood back and surveyed her affectionately.  "Do you know what
an Enterprise is, Aunt Fanny?" he asked.  "An Enterprise with a large
capital E at the beginning?"

Lady Jocelyn looked up at him with an air of mild surprise.

"I believe it is a thing that people prosecute," she replied.  "Why
do you ask?"

"I am engaged on one," said Tony.  "I can't tell you what it is
to-day, because I have got to go in three minutes, and I always
stammer if I try to talk quickly.  Besides it's too interesting to
hurry over."

"My dear Tony," said Lady Jocelyn; "you fill me with curiosity.  If
you don't come round again soon and tell me all about it I shall
never forgive you."

"I shall come," said Tony.  "I fancy it's going to be one of those
enterprises which will absorb a good deal of advice and assistance."

"You can count on mine," said Lady Jocelyn, "even if I have to
imperil my hitherto unblemished reputation in Chester Square."

Tony bent down and kissed her cheek.  "Dear Aunt Fanny," he said.  "I
should certainly propose to you if it wasn't forbidden in the
prayer-book."

Lady Jocelyn laughed and patted his hand.  "I appreciate the
compliment, Tony," she said, "but perhaps it's just as well as it is.
I am getting old, and you would be a very bad preparation for the
next world."  She paused.  "Remember," she added; "if you don't come
back within three days and tell me all about the Enterprise I shall
put the matter in the hands of the S.P.C.A."

"What's that?" inquired Tony.

"The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Aunts," said Lady
Jocelyn.


A slight but natural reluctance on the part of the Peugot to leave
such a select neighbourhood, delayed Tony for several minutes outside
the house.  At length, however, he managed to persuade the big car to
start, and just baffling a masterly attempt at suicide by a passing
terrier, he set off on his return journey to Hampstead.

He did not go direct to Mrs. Spalding's, but continued his way
straight up Haverstock Hill and across the Heath to his own house.
Here he got out and handed the car over to the care of Jennings, who
came sauntering down from the garage in his usual sombre fashion.

"You can put her away, Jennings," he said, brushing the dust from his
sleeve.  "If I want anything to-night I shall take a taxi.  This
perpetual dashing about in high-powered cars is apt to induce
arrogance."

Jennings received this statement with an unmoved expression, and
leaving him to carry out his instructions, Tony entered the hall.  He
walked across to the stick rack in the corner, where he proceeded to
select a large and particularly heavy Irish blackthorn from the
numerous specimens that it contained.  He weighed this thoughtfully
in his hand, and then, apparently satisfied with its possibilities,
he lighted himself a cigar and strolled off down the drive and out
across the Heath in the direction of Mrs. Spalding's house.




CHAPTER XI

THE BAITED TRAP

Latimer Lane, which was the name of the secluded little road in which
the Spaldings' house was situated, presented a most restful
appearance as Tony entered it from the upper end.  Except for a
solitary cat sunning herself in the gutter, there was no sign of life
throughout its entire length.  If any sinister-looking gentlemen were
really lurking in the neighbourhood, they had at least succeeded in
concealing themselves with the most praiseworthy skill.

With his blackthorn in his hand Tony sauntered peacefully along the
pavement.  There was nothing about his appearance to suggest that he
was taking any unusual interest in his surroundings.  His whole
demeanour was as free from suspicion as that of the cat herself, who
merely opened one sleepy eye at his approach, and then closed it
again with an air of sun-warmed indifference.

He turned in at the gate of Mrs. Spalding's house without so much as
a backward glance, and strolling up the garden path, knocked lightly
at the door.  It was opened almost immediately by Bugg, whose face
lit up with that same sort of simple-hearted smile that Ney used to
assume at the appearance of Napoleon.

"It's all right, sir," he whispered exultingly, as soon as the door
was closed again.  "'E's still there, an' 'tother bloke too!"

Tony hung up his hat, and with tender care deposited his blackthorn
on the hall table.

"That's splendid, Bugg," he said.  "Where is Miss Francis?"

With a jerk of his thumb, Bugg indicated the basement.

"She's dahn there along o' Mrs. Spalding, sir."

The words had hardly left his lips, when Isabel, slightly flushed and
looking prettier than ever, emerged from the head of the kitchen
stairs.

"Oh," she said, "you have just come at the right time.  Mrs. Spalding
and I have been making some scones for tea."

Tony looked at her in admiration.  "What wild and unexpected talents
you have, Isabel," he remarked.

She laughed happily.  "I can make very good scones," she said.  "That
was one of the extra and private accomplishments that Miss Watson
taught me."  She paused.  "How soon would you like to have tea?"

"Do you mind putting it off for a little bit?" said Tony.  "I have
got something I want to speak to you about first."  He turned to
Bugg.  "Go out into the yard behind, Bugg," he said, "and have a nice
careful look at the back wall.  I want to know if it's fairly easy to
climb and what there is the other side of it."

With that invaluable swiftness of action that distinguishes a
successful welter-weight, Bugg wheeled round and shot off on his
errand.  Isabel gazed after him for a moment in surprise, and then
turned back to Tony with a slightly bewildered expression.

"Is there anything the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing the least serious," said Tony reassuringly.  "I am thinking
of entertaining a couple of old friends of ours who are too shy to
call in the usual way."

A sudden look of understanding flashed into Isabel's face, and taking
a quick step forward she laid her hand lightly on Tony's arm.

"You mean those men--those two men?" she whispered.  "Why--are they
outside?  Have they found out where I am?"

Tony patted her hand.  "There's nothing to be frightened about,
Isabel," he said.  "At least not for us."

She drew herself up proudly.  "I'm not frightened," she said, "not a
bit.  I told you I should never be frightened again as long as I had
you to help me."  She took a long breath.  "What are you going to
do?" she asked.  "Kill them?"

Tony laughed.  "I think we ought to find out first what they want,"
he said.  "There's a sort of prejudice in this country against
massacring people at sight."

"I--I forgot we were in England," said Isabel apologetically.  "I
have heard father and the others talk so much about killing people,
it doesn't seem nearly as serious to me as it ought to."

"Never mind," said Tony consolingly.  "We all have our weak points."
He leaned over and tipped off the ash of his cigar into the umbrella
stand.  "According to Bugg," he added, "our two friends have been
hanging about outside the house ever since Tuesday."

Isabel opened her eyes.  "Since Tuesday!" she repeated.  "But why
didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you.  I knew you would be quite safe with
Bugg here, so I thought it was better to wait until I had made up my
mind what to do."  He paused.  "Whoever these two beauties are it's
quite evident that what they're really yearning for is another little
private chat with you.  At least it's difficult to see what else they
can be after unless they are going in for a fresh air cure."

Isabel nodded her head. "It's me all right," she observed with some
conviction.

"Well, under the circumstances," pursued Tony tranquilly, "I propose
to give them the chance of gratifying their ambition.  I always like
to help people gratify their ambition, even if it involves a little
personal trouble and exertion."

Isabel's amber eyes lit up with an expectant and rather unkind
pleasure.  "What are you going to do?" she asked again.

"It depends to a certain extent on Bugg's report," replied Tony.
"The idea is that he and I should go out by the front gate, work our
way round to the back, and make a quiet and unobtrusive re-entrance
over the garden wall.  We should then be on the premises in case any
one took it into their heads to call during our absence."

Isabel laughed joyously.  "That's a lovely idea," she exclaimed.  "I
do hope----"

She was interrupted by the sudden reappearance of Bugg, who came
rapidly up the staircase in the same noiseless and unexpected fashion
that he had departed in.

"Well?" said Tony, throwing away the stump of his cigar.

"There ain't nothin' wrong abaht the wall, sir," replied Bugg
cheerfully.  "One can 'op over that as easy as sneezin'."

"What is there the other side of it?" asked Tony.

"It gives on to the back garden of the 'Ollies--that big empty 'ouse
in 'Eath Street."

"How very obliging of it," said Tony contentedly.  He turned to
Isabel.  "It's no good wasting time, is it?" he added.  "I think I
had better go straight down and tell Mrs. Spalding what we propose to
do.  She ought to know something about it, just in case we have to
slaughter any one on her best carpet."

Isabel looked a little doubtful.  "I hope she won't mind," she said.

"I don't think she will," replied Tony.  "I have always found her
most reasonable about trifles."  He turned back to Bugg.  "Better
find a bag or something to take with you when you go out," he added.
"I want you to look as if you were on your way back to Goodman's
Rest."

Bugg saluted, and making his way downstairs, Tony tapped gently at
what appeared to be the kitchen door.  It was opened by Mrs. Spalding
who at the sight of her visitor showed distinct traces of surprise
and concern.

"Why ever didn't you ring, Sir Antony?" she inquired almost
reproachfully.

"It's all right, Mrs. Spalding," he replied in his cheerful fashion.
"I came down purposely because I want to have a little private talk
with you."  He moved aside a plate, and before she could protest
seated himself on the corner of the table.  "You remember what I told
you a couple of days ago about the house being watched?"

"Indeed yes, sir," said Mrs. Spalding.  "They are still hanging about
the place according to what Bugg says.  I am sure I don't know what
the police can be up to allowing a thing like that to go on in a
respectable neighbourhood."

"It's scandalous," agreed Tony warmly.  "As far as I can see the only
thing to do is to take the matter into our hands.  The men are
probably a couple of ruffians employed to watch the place by Miss
Francis' guardian."

Mrs. Spalding nodded her head.  "I shouldn't be a bit surprised, sir.
Them foreigners are up to anything."

"It must be put a stop to," said Tony firmly.  "Of course I could
insist upon the police taking it up, but I think on the whole it
would be better if we tackled the matter ourselves.  One doesn't want
the half-penny papers to get hold of it, or anything of that sort."

"Certainly not, sir," said Mrs. Spalding in a shocked voice.  "It
would never do for a gentleman in your position."

"Well, I have thought of a plan," began Tony, "but the fact is--" he
paused artistically--"well, the fact is, Mrs. Spalding, I should
hardly like to trouble you any further after the extremely kind way
in which you have already helped us."

The good woman was visibly affected.  "You mustn't think of that, Sir
Antony," she protested.  "I am sure it's a real pleasure to do
anything I can for you and the young lady--such a nice sweet-spoken
young lady she is too."

"Well, of course, if you really feel like that about it," observed
Tony; and without wasting efforts on any further diplomacy, he
proceeded to sketch out the plan of campaign that he had already
described to Isabel.

"It's quite simple, you see," he finished.  "We pop back over the
garden wall and through the kitchen window, and there we are.  Then
if these scoundrels do turn up and ask for Miss Francis, you have
only got to let them in and leave the rest to us.  I don't think they
will bother us much more--not after I've finished with them."

For a respectable woman, who had hitherto led a peaceful and
law-abiding life, Mrs. Spalding received the scheme with surprising
calmness.

"You will be careful about the climbing the wall, won't you, sir?"
she observed.  "It's that old, there's no knowing whether it will
bear a gentleman of your weight."

"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Spalding," said Tony reassuringly.  "I
shall allow Bugg to go first."

He got down off the table, and after once more expressing his thanks,
made his way upstairs again into the hall.

He found Isabel standing at the door of the sitting-room just as he
had left her.

"Well?" she asked eagerly.

"There are no difficulties," said Tony.  "Mrs. Spalding is all for a
forward policy."

As he spoke there was a sound of footsteps above them, and Bugg
descended the staircase carrying a small bag in one hand and his cap
in the other.

"I think we may as well make a start," continued Tony.  "Don't hurry
yourself, 'Tiger.'  Just paddle along comfortably, and whatever you
do keep your eyes off the opposite side of the road.  You can either
take the bag back to Goodman's Rest, or else leave it in the bar at
the Castle.  Anyhow meet me in a quarter of an hour's time in the
back garden of the Hollies."

Bugg nodded his head.  "I'll be there, Sir Ant'ny," he replied grimly.

Tony pushed open the door of the sitting-room.  "We had better wait
in here, Isabel," he said.  "We mustn't be seen conspiring together
in the hall when Bugg goes out, or it might put the enemy on his
guard."

A few seconds later the peace of Latimer Lane was suddenly disturbed
by the banging of Mrs. Spalding's front door.  Whistling a bright
little music hall ditty to himself, Bugg came marching down the
garden path and passed out through the gate into the roadway.  He
paused for a moment to extract and light himself a Woodbine
cigarette, and then, without looking back at the house, set off at a
leisurely pace in the direction of the Heath.

For ten minutes a deep unbroken hush brooded over the neighbourhood.
If there were any human beings about they still remained silent and
invisible, while the solitary cat, who had glanced up resentfully as
Bugg passed, gradually resumed her former attitude of somnolent
repose.

Then once more the door of number sixteen opened, and Tony and Isabel
made their appearance.  The latter was wearing no hat, and her
red-gold hair gleamed in the sunshine, like copper in the firelight.
They strolled down together as far as the gate, where they remained
for a few moments laughing and chatting.  Then, with a final and
fairly audible observation to the effect that he would be back about
six, Tony took his departure.  He went off to the left, in the
opposite direction from that patronized by Bugg.

Turning lightly round Isabel sauntered back up the garden.  The front
door closed behind her, and once again peace--the well ordered peace
of a superior London suburb, descended upon Latimer Lane.

* * * * * * *

At the back of the house Mrs. Spalding was standing at the kitchen
window, which she had pushed up to its fullest extent.  Her eyes were
fixed anxiously upon the summit of the wall which divided her
miniature back yard from the adjoining property.  It was a venerable
wall, of early Victorian origin, about twelve feet in height, and
thickly covered with a mat of ivy.

At last, from the other side came a faint rustle, followed almost
immediately by the unmistakable scrape and scuffle of somebody
attempting an ascent.  Then a hand and arm appeared over the top, and
a moment later Bugg had hoisted himself into view, and was sitting
astride the parapet.  He paused for an instant to whisper back some
hoarse but inaudible remark, and then catching hold of the ivy swung
himself neatly and rapidly to the ground.

There was another and rather louder scuffle, and Tony followed suit.
He came down into the yard even quicker than Bugg--his descent being
somewhat accelerated by the behaviour of a branch of ivy, which
detached itself from the wall, just as he had got his full weight on
it.

"Yer ain't 'urt yerself, 'ave ye, sir?" inquired the faithful "Tiger"
with some anxiety.

Tony shook his head, and discarded the handful of foliage that he was
still clutching.

"One should never trust entirely to Nature, Bugg," he observed.  "She
invariably lets one down."

He stopped to flick off the dust and cobwebs from the knees of his
trousers, and then leading the way across the yard to the kitchen
window, he scrambled in over the sill.

"I am afraid I have thinned out your ivy a bit, Mrs. Spalding," he
remarked regretfully.

"It doesn't matter the least about that, sir," replied Mrs. Spalding,
"so long as you haven't gone and shook yourself up."

"I don't think I have," said Tony.  "I feel extraordinarily well
except for a slight craving for tea."  He paused.  "No sign of the
enemy yet, I suppose?"

Mrs. Spalding shook her head.  "It's all been quite quiet so far, Sir
Antony."

"Well, I think we had better go upstairs and arrange our plans," he
observed.  "We may have plenty of time, but it's just as well to be
on the safe side.  There's a strain of impetuosity in the foreign
blood that one has to look out for."

He moved towards the door; and followed by Mrs. Spalding and
Bugg--the latter of whom had climbed in through the window after
him--he mounted the flight of stone stairs that led up into the hall.

"I suppose Miss Francis is in her bedroom?" he said turning to Mrs.
Spalding.

She nodded her head.  "Yes, Sir Antony.  She went up directly she
came back into the house."

He took a step forward and stood for a moment contemplating the scene
with the thoughtful air of a general surveying the site of a future
battle.

"I think your place, Bugg," he said, "will be half-way up the
staircase, just out of sight of the front door.  I shall wait in the
sitting-room, and Mrs. Spalding will be downstairs in the kitchen."
He paused.  "What will happen is this.  When the bell rings Mrs.
Spalding will come up and open the door.  Directly she does, our
friends will probably force their way into the hall and ask to see
Miss Francis.  They will know she is upstairs, because as a matter of
fact she is sitting in the window reading a book."

"Am I to let them through, sir?" inquired Mrs. Spalding.

"Not without a protest," said Tony; "but I expect as a matter of fact
they will simply push past you.  People like that have very bad
manners, especially when they are pressed for time.  In that case all
you have got to do will be to fall back to the kitchen stairs and
leave the rest to us."

Bugg sighed happily.  "An' then I s'pose I comes dahn and we shoves
it across 'em, sir?" he inquired.

"That's the idea," said Tony, "but there's no need to be rough or
unkind about it.  All I want to do is to get them into the
sitting-room in a sufficiently chastened frame of mind to answer a
few civil questions.  It oughtn't to be difficult unless they have
got revolvers."

"Revolvers!" repeated Mrs. Spalding in some distress.  "Oh, dear,
dear!  You will be careful, won't you, Sir Antony?"

"I shall," said Tony: "extremely careful."

He walked to the hall table and picked up the blackthorn that he had
left lying there.  "I don't think I shall want this," he remarked,
"but perhaps----"

He broke off abruptly, as a faint sound from outside suddenly reached
his ear.

"Listen!" he said softly.  "What's that?"

There was a moment's pause, and then quite clearly came the
unmistakable click of the front gate.

Swiftly and quietly Tony stepped back to the sitting-room door.

"Here they are!" he announced with a cheerful smile.  "Take it
coolly: there's heaps of time."

Considering the abrupt nature of the crisis, it must be admitted that
both Mrs. Spalding and Bugg rose to the occasion in the most
creditable fashion.  In three strides the latter had disappeared up
the staircase, while if Mrs. Spalding was a shade less precipitous,
it was only because she was not so well fitted by nature for sudden
and violent transitions.

Tony waited until they were both out of sight, and then with a final
glance round the hall he stepped back into the sitting-room.  He
closed the door after him until only the faintest crack was visible
from outside, and having placed his blackthorn carefully in the
corner, he stood there in easy readiness, his hand resting lightly on
the door knob.

For perhaps thirty seconds the steady ticking of the hall clock alone
broke the silence.  Then the sound of a slight movement became
suddenly audible outside the house, and a moment later the sharp
_tang, tang_ of a bell went jangling through the basement.  With a
contented smile Tony began to button up his coat.

He heard Mrs. Spalding mount the stairs and pass along the hall
passage outside.  There was the sharp snap of a bolt being pushed
back, and then almost simultaneously came a sudden scuffle of
footsteps, and the loud bang of an abruptly closed door.

"Pardon, Madame," said a voice.  "We do not wish to alarm you, but it
is necessary that we speak with the young lady upstairs."

For a complete amateur in private theatricals, Mrs. Spalding played
her part admirably.

"You will do nothing of the kind," she replied with every symptom of
surprised indignation.  "Who are you?  How dare you force your way
into a private house like this?"

"You will pardon us, Madame," repeated the voice, "but I fear we must
insist.  We mean no harm to the young lady: on the contrary we are
her best--her truest friends."

Mrs. Spalding sniffed audibly.  "That's as it may be," she retorted.
"Anyhow, you don't set a foot on my staircase; and what's more, if
you don't leave the house immediately I shall send for the police."

There was a brief whispered consultation in what sounded like a
foreign language, and then the same voice spoke again.

"We dislike to use force, Madame; but since you leave us no
choice----"

Once more came the quick shuffle of steps, followed in this case by
the crash of an overturning chair, and then with a swift jerk Tony
flung open the door, and strode blithely out into the hall.  He took
in the situation at a glance.  True to her instructions Mrs. Spalding
had retreated to the head of the kitchen banisters, where one of the
intruders had followed as though to cut her off from further
interference.  The other was bounding gaily up the staircase,
apparently under the happy impression that the road was now clear
before him.

Tony just had time to see that the man in the hall was the shorter of
the two, when with an exclamation of anger and alarm that gentleman
spun round to meet him.  As he turned his right hand travelled
swiftly back towards his hip pocket, but the action though well
intended was too late to be effective.  With one tiger-like spring
Tony had crossed the intervening distance, and clutching him
affectionately round the waist, had pinned his arms to his sides.

"No shooting, Harold," he said.  "You might break the pictures."

As he spoke the whole staircase was suddenly shaken by a crash
upstairs, followed by the heavy thud of a falling body.  Then, almost
simultaneously, the head of "Tiger" Bugg protruded itself over the
banisters.

"All right below, sir?" it inquired with some anxiety.

Tony looked up.  "If you have quite finished, you might come down and
take away this revolver," he replied tranquilly.

That Bugg had finished was evident from the immediate nature of his
response.  He leaped down the stairs with the activity of a chamois,
and darting in behind Tony's struggling captive, fished out a wicked
looking Mauser pistol from that gentleman's hip pocket.

"'Ere we are, sir," he announced cheerfully.  "Loaded up proper too
from the look of it."

Tony released his grip, and the owner of the weapon staggered back
against the wall gasping like a newly landed fish.

"Give it to me," said Tony holding out his hand, and as Bugg
complied, he added in that pleasantly lazy way of his: "If you
haven't corpsed the gentleman upstairs, go and bring him down into
the sitting-room."  Then, turning to his own late adversary, he
observed hospitably: "Perhaps you wouldn't mind joining us, sir.  I
am sure we shall all enjoy a little chat."

The stranger, who was gradually beginning to recover from Tony's
bear-like hug, scowled horribly.  He was not a prepossessing looking
person, for in addition to a cast in his left eye, his swarthy and
truculent face was further disfigured by the scar of an old sword
cut, which seemed to have just failed in a laudable effort to slice
off the greater part of his jaw.  All the same there was a certain
air of force and authority about him, which redeemed him from
absolute ruffianism.

Beyond the scowl, however, he made no further protest, but followed
by Tony and the Mauser, marched along into the sitting-room, where he
folded his arms and took up a defiant posture on the hearth-rug.

There was a sound of banging and bumping from the staircase, and a
moment later Bugg entered through the doorway, half carrying and half
pushing the semi-conscious figure of the other invader.

"I 'it 'im a bit 'arder than I meant to, sir," he explained
apologetically to Tony; "but 'e's comin' rahnd now nice an' pretty."

He deposited the convalescent carefully in the easy-chair, and then
stepped back as though waiting further instructions.

It was the cross-eyed gentleman, however, who broke the silence.

"In my country," he observed thickly, "you would die for this--both
of you."

Tony smiled at him indulgently.  "I am sure we should," he said; "but
that's the best of Hampstead; it's so devilish healthy."  He paused.
"Won't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?" he added.

There was something so unexpected either about the request or else
the manner of it, that for a moment the visitor seemed at a loss what
to do.  At length, however, he seated himself on the edge of the
sofa, still glowering savagely at Tony with his working eye.

It was at this point that his friend in the chair began to emerge
into something like intelligent interest in the proceedings.  After
blinking vaguely and shaking his head once or twice, he suddenly
raised himself in his seat, and looked round him with a slightly
bewildered air.  His gaze finally came to rest on the barrel of the
Mauser pistol which happened at the moment to be pointing in his
direction.

[Illustration: His gaze finally came to rest on the barrel of the
Mauser pistol.  "Feeling better?" inquired Tony kindly.  An obvious
train of recollection flashed across the stranger's face.  "I
remember now," he muttered.  "Something struck me--something on the
stairs."]

"Feeling better?" inquired Tony kindly.

An obvious train of recollection flashed across the stranger's face,
and with an instinctive movement he raised his hand to his jaw.

"I remember now," he muttered.  "Something struck me.  Something on
the stairs."

"That's right," said Tony encouragingly.  "It was Bugg's fist.  Very
few people can take a punch in the jaw from Bugg and remember the
exact details."

The stranger looked at Tony with some curiosity.  He had a more
refined and intelligent face than his companion, while from the few
words he had spoken his foreign accent appeared to be less pronounced.

"I presume," he said, "that I am addressing Sir Antony Conway?"

Tony nodded.  "You at least have the advantage of knowing whom you're
talking to."

There was a moment's pause, and then the man on the sofa laughed
aggressively.

"It is an advantage that you possibly share with us," he growled.

Tony turned on him.  "Except for the fact that you appear to belong
to the criminal classes," he said, "I haven't the foggiest notion who
either of you are."

With what sounded distressingly like an oath the cross-eyed gentleman
scrambled to his feet, but a slight change in the direction of the
Mauser pulled him up abruptly.

It was his friend who relieved the somewhat strained situation.

"You forget, Colonel," he said suavely.  "If Sir Antony Conway is not
aware who we are, our conduct must certainly appear to be a trifle
peculiar."  He turned back to Tony.  "If you would grant us the
privilege of a few moments' private conversation I fancy we might
come to a better understanding.  It is possible that we are
rather--how do you say--at cross purposes."

"I shouldn't wonder," replied Tony cheerfully.  "Do you mind going
out into the hall for a minute, Bugg?  I am sorry to leave you out of
it, but one must respect the wishes of one's guests."

It was the first occasion on which Bugg had ever received an order
from Tony that he had hesitated over the immediate fulfilment.

"It ain't as I want to 'ear wot they says, sir," he explained
apologetically.  "It's leavin' you alone with the blighters I don't
like."

"I shan't be alone, 'Tiger,'" said Tony.  "I shall have this
excellent little Mauser pistol to keep me company."

Bugg walked reluctantly to the door.  "I'll only be just in the 'all
if you want me," he observed.  "You'll watch aht for any dirty work,
won't ye, sir?"

"I shall," said Tony: "most intently."

He waited until the door had closed, and then seated himself on the
corner of the table, with the Mauser dangling between his knees.

"Well, gentlemen?" he observed encouragingly.

"Sir Antony Conway," said the taller of the two.  "Will you permit me
to ask you a perfectly frank question?  Are you aware of the identity
of this young lady, in whose behalf you seem to have interested
yourself?"

"Of course I am," said Tony.

"And may we take it that in coming as you thought to her assistance
you acted from--" he paused--"from entirely private motives?"  He
waited for the answer with an eagerness that was plainly visible.

Tony nodded.  "I never act from anything else," he remarked.

The tall man turned to his companion.  "It is as I suggested,
Colonel," he observed, with an air of quiet triumph.

The other still glared suspiciously at Tony.  "Have a care," he
muttered.  "Who knows that he is speaking the truth."

The tall man made a gesture of impatience.  "You do not understand
the English nobility, Colonel."  He turned back to Tony.  "Permit us
to introduce ourselves.  This is Colonel Saltero of the Livadian
army.  My name is Congosta--Señor Eduardo Congosta.  It is a name not
unknown among Livadian Loyalists."

Tony bowed bravely to the pair of them.  "I am delighted to meet you
both," he said.  "I can't profess any great admiration for your
distinguished monarch, but perhaps I don't know his finer qualities."

"Our distinguished monarch," repeated the Colonel darkly.  "Of whom
do you speak, Sir Antony?"

Tony raised his eyebrows.  "Why--Peter of course," he said.  "Pedro,
I should say.  Have you more than one of them?"

Colonel Saltero, who was still upon his feet, scowled more savagely
than ever.  "That miserable impostor," he exclaimed.  "I----"

"You misunderstand us, sir," put in the smoother voice of Señor
Congosta.  "The person you refer to has no legitimate claim to the
throne of Livadia.  Like all true Loyalists we are followers of his
late Majesty King Francisco the First."

It was a startling announcement, but Tony's natural composure stood
him in good stead.

"Really!" he said slowly.  "How extremely interesting!  I thought you
had all been exterminated."

Señor Congosta smiled.  "You will pardon my saying so, Sir Antony,
but an accurate knowledge of Continental affairs is not one of your
great nation's strong points."  He paused.  "Our party is more
powerful now than at any time during the last fifteen years."

"But how about the government?" said Tony.  "Surely they don't look
on you any more affectionately than on Pedro and his little lot?"

"The government!"  Señor Congosta repeated the words with the utmost
scorn.  "I will be frank with you, Sir Antony.  The Republican
government is doomed.  Too long has that collection of traitors
battened on my unfortunate country.  It needs but one spark to kindle
the flame, and--"  With a sweep of his arm he indicated the painful
and abrupt fate that was awaiting the President of Livadia and his
advisers.

"I see," said Tony slowly.  "Then your somewhat original method of
calling is connected with State affairs?"

Señor Congosta spread out his hands.  "There is no point in further
concealment," he observed.  "I think you will agree with me, Colonel
Saltero, that we had better tell this gentleman the entire truth."

That Colonel grunted doubtfully, as though telling the entire truth
were not a habit that he was accustomed to approve of, but the reply,
such as it was, seemed good enough for his companion.

"For some time past," he said, "the Loyalists of Livadia have only
been waiting their opportunity.  The Republic is rotten--rotten to
the core.  It must soon fall like a bad fruit, and then--" he
paused--"then will come the chance for which we are ready."

"And for which," added Tony, "the Marquis da Freitas is also
eminently ready."

Congosta's eyes gleamed.  "So!" he said softly.  "You know him?"

"Not intimately," said Tony: "just well enough to know that he is
likely to be around when the prizes are given out."

Congosta nodded his head.  A malevolent expression had crept into his
face that made him look almost as sinister as the Colonel.

"It is with Da Freitas," he said slowly, "that we have to settle.
With Da Freitas and one other.  Until a month ago everything had been
arranged for.  We knew that here in England the usurper was plotting
and planning for his restoration.  We knew that he had many friends
in the army and navy--that any moment the revolution might break out.
But we were prepared.  The very moment trouble came we intended to
strike--and strike hard."

He stopped.

"What were you going to do?" asked Tony with interest.

"We should have seized the Palace before Da Freitas' hirelings and
traitors were ready, and proclaimed Francisco's daughter as the
rightful heir to the throne."

There was another pause.

"It was a good idea," said Tony; "but I gather there has been a
slight hitch somewhere."

"We were betrayed," said Congosta sullenly.  "We made the mistake of
trusting to a coward and a fool.  It is the price that one always
pays for such mistakes."

"Who was the gentleman?" asked Tony innocently.

"It was the King's brother-in-law--the Count de Sé.  He was left
guardian to the Princess Isabella under his late Majesty's will.  All
along he has pretended to work with us; and then, a month ago, he
came secretly to England and betrayed the whole of our purpose to Da
Freitas."

There was a sulphurous snort from Colonel Saltero, as though the mere
mention of the incident were altogether too much for his feelings.

"We should be thankful," went on Congosta bitterly, "that the
Princess is still alive.  Da Freitas is not particular when his own
interests are at stake.  Had it suited him--" he made an expressive
gesture with his hands.  "As it is he seems to have thought the
Count's plan equally effective--and perhaps healthier for himself.
Why should not Pedro marry the Princess?  Then when the revolution
came there would only be one claimant to the throne of Livadia, and
all our plans would be flung to the ground."

"It seems to me," said Tony thoughtfully, "that the Count de Sé is
what we call a dirty dog in this country.  All the same I don't quite
see what he was driving at.  Surely it would have suited his book
better for Isabella to be queen in her own right."

"He was afraid," said Congosta scornfully.  "He is a coward, and he
was afraid there would be fighting, and perhaps failure.  He has no
heart for such things.  It seemed to him better to live under the
shelter of Da Freitas."

"He will not live long," growled the Colonel ominously.

"As soon as we learned what had happened," continued Congosta, "we
had a council at Portriga, and it was decided that the Colonel and I
should come to England.  We have friends and agents here and it was
not difficult to find out where the Count was living.  I took a room
at Richmond, and for a week I watched and waited in the hope of
speaking with the Princess.  I was convinced that she knew nothing of
what was happening in Livadia--that she probably believed her
father's friends were dead or powerless.  The first day I discovered
she was there, but as for speaking with her--" he shrugged his
shoulders--"there was an old hag of a French woman who never left
her--who watched her like a cat.  Then at last came the evening when
she left the house--alone.  At first I was on my guard; I feared that
Da Freitas might have learned I was in Richmond; that he was using
this means to draw me into a trap.  It was only when she got to the
station and hid in the waiting-room that I began to suspect she was
running away.  I did not speak with her then; I did not wish to alarm
her.  I knew she was going to Waterloo, because I had listened when
she asked for her ticket.  So while I waited I sent off a telegram to
Saltero to meet me there, and I too came up to London in the same
train."

He paused again, half out of breath from the rapidity with which he
had been speaking.

"I think I have a good working idea of the rest of the story," said
Tony.  He slipped off the table and stood up facing his two
prisoners.  "I owe you an apology," he added, "both of you.  I am
afraid that in our anxiety to assist the Princess, Bugg and I have
been rather unnecessarily strenuous."

Congosta rose to his feet and bowed gravely.  "Sir Antony Conway," he
said.  "You behaved as I should expect an English nobleman to behave
under the circumstances.  Neither Colonel Saltero nor myself bear you
any ill will for the slight inconvenience we have suffered."

The Colonel, who seemed to be a man of less expansive habit, grunted
again, but Tony did not allow this apparent lack of enthusiasm to
damp the graciousness of Congosta's speech.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you have been frank with me, and I will be
equally frank with you.  When I came to the assistance of Princess
Isabella, I had not the remotest notion who she was.  I acted on the
impulse of the moment, as I suppose any one else would have acted.
Out of gratitude for this very slight service, the Princess was good
enough to take me into her confidence.  When I found that she was
being forced into a marriage for which she had the strongest possible
dislike, I naturally determined to put a stop to it.  I have my own
reasons for not regarding Pedro as a suitable husband for her, apart
altogether from the fact that she hates the sight of him.  If it will
relieve your minds in any way I can assure you that she will be quite
safe from him as long as she will do me the honour of accepting my
assistance."

It was the Colonel's turn to answer.  "That is well," he said.  "We
are obliged to you for what you have done, but the affair cannot
remain so.  We must speak with the Princess.  She must be informed of
the high destiny that awaits her."

"That is a point," said Tony politely, "on which I am not quite in
agreement with you, Colonel.  The Princess has placed herself under
my guardianship and I should be neglecting my duty if I encouraged
her to mix herself up with an attempted revolution.  I consider it a
very unhealthy profession for a girl of her age."

The Colonel glared at him.  "Sir!" he stammered.  "Do you dare to
thrust yourself in between the throne of Livadia and its Divinely
appointed occupant?"

"Oh, no," said Tony cheerfully; "I don't go as far as that.  When you
have managed to make the throne vacant, I shall be very pleased to
advise the Princess to step into it.  Until then she is much happier
and safer in Hampstead."

"I am inclined to think that Sir Antony Conway may be right,
Colonel," broke in the voice of Señor Congosta.  "The Princess's
welfare must be our first consideration.  To take her to Livadia at
present is out of the question, and I don't know any place where she
would be safer from Da Freitas than in this house.  We have had
personal proof of the excellence of Sir Antony's arrangements.  As
for her being identified in any way with our plans--" he
paused--"well, the Republican government has been recognized by
England, and it would be madness on our part to give them any
avoidable cause for complaint."

There was still a doubtful frown upon the Colonel's brow.

"I do not approve of the situation," he said stiffly.  "It is not
fitting that the future Queen of Livadia should be living in this
house--unchaperoned and unprotected."

With a solemn face Tony drew himself up to his full height.

"Sir!" he said.  "You forget that you are addressing a member of the
English nobility."

The magnificence of the retort seemed to have a temporarily
paralysing effect upon the Colonel, and before he could recover Señor
Congosta, who was evidently the directing brain of the two, had taken
the matter into his own hands.

"It is well spoken," he said with another low bow.  "Sir Antony
Conway--on behalf of my country, permit me to express the confidence
and gratitude with which we accept your assistance."




CHAPTER XII

MOLLY BECOMES AN ALLY

Guy sat in his chair, and for a moment surveyed the admirably kept
garden of Goodman's Rest with a thoughtful frown.  Then his gaze
travelled back to Tony and Isabel.

"We are in an extraordinary situation," he observed slowly.

It was just at half-past ten in the morning, and they were all of
them sitting on the lawn at the back of the house, in a pleasant
blaze of spring sunshine which streamed down out of a cloudless blue
sky.  Tony, who was smoking a cigar, had just finished giving his
cousin a full and spirited description of his interview with Congosta
and Saltero, for by the time he had returned to the house on the
previous evening, Guy, who had been suffering from a slight headache,
had already gone to bed.

"I don't see anything so very extraordinary about it," said Tony
placidly.  "Everybody seems to me to be behaving in a most natural
and reasonable manner.  In fact I am just a bit disappointed.  I
always thought that people who went in for revolutions and that kind
of thing were much more mysterious and exciting."

"Well, I don't know what you want!" retorted Guy.  "You appear to
have got both the Royalists and the Franciscans on your track, and as
far as sticking at trifles goes, I shouldn't imagine there was much
to choose between any of the parties in Livadia."

"You must remember that you are speaking of Isabel's native land,"
protested Tony reprovingly.

"Oh, he can say what he likes about Livadia," said Isabel.  "It's all
true."

"And anyhow," went on Guy, "if we mean to get out of this business
safely and successfully we must look at things exactly as they are
and not as they ought to be.  As far as I can see the whole affair is
more like a cheap melodrama than anything else, but that doesn't mean
there isn't a very real danger for people who choose to mix
themselves up in it."  He paused.  "What was your final understanding
with these--these people?"

"Oh, we parted the best of friends," said Tony cheerfully.  "At least
Congosta and I did.  The Colonel was a little bit stuffy at not being
allowed to see Isabel, but I put that down to his military training.
A good soldier never likes to be baulked in his object."

"Yes, yes; but what are they going to do?" persisted Guy.  "You must
have come to some sort of an arrangement."

"We came to a very good arrangement," said Tony.  "I am to continue
looking after Isabel and keeping her away from the fascinations of
Peter, while they go on with the job of getting the throne ready for
her.  The Colonel is on his way back to Livadia already."

"And what about the other man--Congosta?"

"Congosta is staying on in England for the present.  I have got his
address at Richmond.  He says it's necessary that someone should be
here in order to keep an eye on Peter and Da Freitas.  I don't
suppose he altogether trusts me either."

"I daresay he doesn't," observed Guy drily.

"He probably agreed to the arrangement because he hadn't any
immediate choice in the matter.  I shouldn't imagine that we could
depend on him in the least."

"I don't know," said Tony.  "He seems to have a great faith in the
virtue and nobility of the English aristocracy.  I think he must be a
reader of Charles Garvice."

"Have you made any plans yourself?" asked Guy.

Tony took a thoughtful pull at his cigar.  "Well, I have got one or
two ideas that I was talking over with Isabel last night.  In the
first place I think I shall tell Aunt Fanny all about it.  It's just
the sort of thing that would appeal to her thoroughly; and then she
would be an excellent chaperone if we happened to want one."

Guy pondered over the suggestion for a moment.  "I think you are
right," he admitted half reluctantly.  "We certainly ought to have
someone for--for Isabel's sake," (it was the first time he had
dropped the more formal Miss Francis) "and I suppose Aunt Fanny is
the only possible person.  All the same the fewer people who know
anything about it the better."

"I don't propose to tell any one else," said Tony, "except Molly.
Oh, it's all right," he added, as Guy directed an embarrassed glance
towards their companion; "I told Isabel all about Molly last night.
She has survived the shock splendidly."

"I am not a child, Cousin Guy," said Isabel with dignity.

"But is it necessary to bring this--this young woman in?" objected
Guy.

"Of course it is," said Tony, "and I wish you wouldn't refer to her
in that dreadful way.  It sounds as if she wore black cotton gloves.
Molly's our Chief Intelligence Department.  It's only through her
that we can get any idea of what's going on at Richmond, and apart
from that she is the best friend we could possibly have.  She regards
Peter as her private property--a poor thing, but her own--and she
doesn't mean to lose him without a good scrap.  She's got grit and
nerve, Molly has; otherwise she wouldn't be playing lead at the
Gaiety."

"Very well," said Guy resignedly.  "I suppose that if one goes in for
this sort of thing one must get help where one can.  When do you
propose to see her?"

"Now," said Tony; "if she's out of bed.  I am going to motor down
there right away."  He got up from his chair.  "You will be careful
while I am away, won't you, Isabel?" he added.  "Bugg is on duty all
right, but I think it would be safer for you to stop in the garden
unless you want to go back to the house.  One doesn't know what Da
Freitas may be up to."

"Isabel will be quite safe," said Guy with some spirit.  "I will
remain with her myself if she will allow me to."

"That will be very nice," said Isabel graciously.

Tony tossed away the stump of his cigar.  "I believe that Guy will
end by being the most reckless adventurer of the lot of us," he said
gravely.  "It's generally the way when people take up a fresh hobby
late in life."

Isabel gave one of her little rippling laughs, and before Guy could
think of an adequate retort, Tony had sauntered off up the path in
the direction of the garage.

Amongst the hobbies of Miss Molly Monk that of early rising--as Tony
knew--occupied a comparatively modest place, and he was accordingly
not surprised on reaching her flat to learn from Claudine, the French
maid, that her mistress was still in bed.

"Is she awake?" he inquired.

"_Mais oui, M'sieur_," replied Claudine.  "She 'ave 'er morning
chocolate.  I just take it in to 'er."

"Well, will you go and give her my love," said Tony, "and tell her I
should like to see her as soon as it could be happily managed."

Claudine conducted Tony to the little drawing-room, and then tripped
demurely away down the passage to deliver her message.  She was not
absent for long, as thirty seconds could hardly have elapsed before
she re-entered the apartment.

"If M'sieur will follow me," she announced.  "Madem'selle will
receive him."

She led the way to Molly's bedroom, and pushing open the door which
was already ajar, ushered Tony into a charming atmosphere of cream
walls, apple green hangings, and a huge brass bedstead.

In the bedstead was Molly.  She was sitting up against a little
mountain of white pillows, with a Japanese kimona thrown lightly
round her gossamer nightdress, and her red hair streaming loose over
her shoulders.  She was sipping chocolate, and looked very cool and
attractive.

"Hello, Tony," she said.  "I hope you don't mind being received in
this shameless fashion.  It's your own fault you know for coming so
early."

She extended a slim white hand and wrist, and Tony having implanted a
kiss on the latter, seated himself comfortably on the end of the bed.

"I am not seriously annoyed, Molly," he replied.  "I find that my
naturally Calvinistic principles are becoming broader as I get
older."  He looked at her with an approving glance.  "Besides," he
went on, "at one time it was all the fashion to receive distinguished
visitors in bed.  Madame du Barry--a very highly connected French
lady--made a hobby of it."

"Did she--the saucy puss!" said Molly.  She pushed across a tortoise
shell cigarette case that was lying on the silk coverlet in front of
her.  "You can light up if you like," she added.  "I am going to have
one myself in a minute."

Tony took advantage of her permission, and leaning back against the
brass rail blew out a little spiral of grey smoke.

"I came at this indelicate hour," he observed, "because I promised I
would look round directly I had anything to tell you."

Molly sat up in bed.  "Oh," she exclaimed eagerly, "have you heard
from that friend of yours--the one in Portriga?"

Tony shook his head. "Not yet; there hasn't been time."  He paused.
"I don't know that it's altogether necessary to go to Portriga for
news though.  One seems to be able to pick up a certain amount of
Livadian gossip in London."

Molly put down her cup of chocolate on the tray beside her.  "Tony,"
she said, "what have you heard?"

"It's a long and poignant story," said Tony.  "Are you in any hurry
to get up?"

"Do I look like it?"  She reached across the bed for the cigarette
case.  "Wait a moment till I've got a light; then I shan't interrupt
you."

She struck a match, and drawing in a mouthful of smoke, leaned back
against the pillows.

"That's better," she observed contentedly.  "Now fire ahead."

The art of telling a long story well is a regrettably rare one,
especially amongst people who are chiefly addicted to the habit.
Tony, however, undoubtedly possessed it to a certain extent, and in
the present case he enjoyed the additional advantage of having
already practised upon Guy.  Starting from his meeting with Isabel in
Long Acre, he recounted in that pleasantly unhurried fashion of his
the whole of the spirited events which had led up to his present
visit.  He concealed nothing--not even his deception of Isabel in
connection with the pawning of her brooch, for if Molly was to be
accepted as an active ally, it was obviously necessary that there
should be no half measures about the matter.  Besides, Tony, who
preferred his own judgment to any one else's, considered Molly to be
one of the most trustworthy people he had ever met.

She was at all events an irreproachable listener.  Lying back against
the pillows, her hands clasped behind her head, she followed his
narrative with an absorbed interest that showed itself plainly in her
eyes.  She made no attempt to interrupt him or to ask
questions--indeed with the exception of occasionally knocking off the
ash of her cigarette into the breakfast tray, she remained as
motionless and silent as a Kirchner picture.

"And that," observed Tony in conclusion, "is as far as we've got to
at present.  At least it's all I know for certain.  Of course I may
get back to find that Guy and Isabel have been murdered in the
garden."  He rose from the bed, and crossing to the fireplace tossed
away the stump of his cigarette, which he had allowed to go out.
"Well, what do you say, Molly?" he added cheerfully.  "Are you
prepared to come in with us, and do your bit in saving Peter from
bigamy?"

Molly sat up in bed, her blue eyes gleaming with a brisk and
businesslike determination.

"I should think I was," she observed crisply.  "If any one imagines
I've taken all the trouble of training and educating Peter for
nothing, they're making a fat mistake."  She shook back her hair with
a resolute gesture that spoke volumes for her sincerity.  "Tony," she
said, "you're a brick.  I really don't know how to thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for," said Tony.  "I have taken up the
case in the interests of European morals.  I don't approve of a young
man marrying, when he already has a wife in the sight of Heaven."

"Not only in the sight of Heaven," returned Molly with spirit.  "In
the sight of the Registrar of Chelmsford as well."

There was a brief pause.  "Good Lord!" said Tony slowly.  "Is that a
fact?"

Molly half jumped up in bed, and then sitting down again, pulled up
the counterpane.

"I can't get out," she said, "this nightdress isn't respectable.
Just go to the dressing-table, Tony--there's a dear--and open that
top drawer on the right.  You'll find a jewel-case inside--a brown
one."

Tony did as he was commanded, and took out a small Russia leather
box, with Molly's initials in gold stamped upon the lid.

"Here you are," she said, holding out her hand.  "Now give me that
little bunch of keys by the brush."

She opened the box, and rummaging inside extracted a slip of paper,
which she unfolded and glanced through before handing it to Tony.

"How about that?" she inquired with a sort of dispassionate triumph.

Tony took the document, and sitting down again on the foot of the
bed, spread it out in front of him.  It was the ordinary registrar's
form of marriage certificate, dated at Chelmsford six months
previously, and it set out in the restrained but convincing style
adopted by such authors, that on the date in question Mary Monk,
daughter of John Monk, game-keeper, and Pedro da Talles, son of Pedro
da Talles, gentleman, had seen fit to enter into the bonds of Holy
Matrimony.

Tony read it through with an interest that he seldom devoted to
current literature, and then looked up with an expression of deep
admiration.

"You're a wonderful person, Molly," he said.

She shrugged her shoulders.  "Oh, I'm not under any mistaken ideas
about its value," she replied coolly.  "I know it wouldn't cut any
ice in Livadia--and I expect it's about equally useless here.  You
see in the first place Pedro isn't allowed to marry any one except a
Royalty, and then of course this paper's all out of order.  You see
we had to keep it dark who Peter really was, or of course the news
would have been all over the shop.  Fortunately no ordinary person in
England knows his family name, so there wasn't much chance of anybody
spotting the entry.  The only thing was we couldn't describe his
father as a king--that would have busted the show hopelessly--so we
had to put him down as a gentleman.  I expect that's enough to make
it illegal by itself."

"I should think so," said Tony.  "It's certainly a very misleading
description, judging by popular rumour."  He paused.  "What made you
do it, Molly, and how did you manage to bring it off?"

"Oh, it was easy enough," replied Molly a little contemptuously.  "I
believe I could make Peter do almost anything.  He's frightfully fond
of me in his way."  She leaned forward and picked up the paper.  "I
don't really know why I bothered about it," she added thoughtfully.
"I think it was partly just to show myself I could, and partly--" she
stopped and laughed--"well, Granddad used to be a churchwarden at
Helbeck, you know, and right underneath everything I think I've got
some secret strain of lower middle-class respectability."

"I am glad it hasn't hampered your taste in nightdresses," said Tony.
"That would have been a tragedy."  He helped himself to another
cigarette.  "Well, you're going to come in with us and battle for
your rights, then?" he added.

"Every time," observed Molly with decision.

"I know where I am now, and that will make all the difference.  Up
till to-day I have sort of been fighting in the dark."

"Have you seen Peter again?" inquired Tony.

Molly nodded.  "He was here yesterday.  He wouldn't tell me anything,
but I could see he was nearly worried out of his life.  I don't
believe it's entirely about this girl--I am sure from the way he
spoke that things are coming to a head out in Livadia."

"I expect they are," said Tony.  "You can't work up a revolution and
then postpone it like a mothers' meeting.  Isabel's disappearance
must have made Da Freitas as mad as a wet hen.  It's come just at the
wrong moment."

"Is this girl really so like me?" asked Molly.

"Wonderfully," said Tony; "considering how rare beauty is.  She has
got brown eyes instead of blue, but any one who was short-sighted or
a little intoxicated might easily mistake her for you.  Probably
that's why Peter wanted to kiss her that night after dinner."

Molly looked a little sceptical.  "Peter will kiss anybody," she
said, "especially when he's had a drink or two."  She paused.
"Still, I don't think I like her being quite so like me," she added
thoughtfully.

"It can't be helped," said Tony.  "I expect Heaven had some of the
material left over, and didn't want to waste it."

"Oh, I'm not worrying really," replied Molly.

"I've become a sort of habit to Peter.  He would be absolutely lost
without me now.  He said as much himself yesterday, and he's not
given to making pretty speeches.  You see I'm the only girl he has
ever known who was really fond of him for his own sake.  All the rest
have been absolute rotters."

"He doesn't deserve his luck," said Tony severely.  "It's incredible
that any one could be so stupid as to prefer sitting on a throne in
Livadia to stopping in London and making love to you."

"Oh, it's not his fault," protested Molly.  "It's all that old pig Da
Freitas.  Peter knows perfectly well he is not fit to be a king.  I
have told him so again and again, and in his heart he absolutely
agrees with me.  He always makes a mess of things if I'm not there to
look after him."

Tony got up from the bed.  "It's really a work of pure benevolence
that we're engaged on," he observed.  "We might almost christen
ourselves the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Peter, and
appeal for a public subscription."  He picked up his hat off the
chair.  "Well anyhow, Molly," he added, "from to-day we shall
consider you one of us, and keep you posted up in everything that
goes on."

"Right-oh," replied Molly cheerfully, "and the same here.  I am quite
sure that if Peter is going to do anything very desperate he'll let
me know about it in spite of Da Freitas.  Anyhow, it won't be my
fault if he doesn't."

"I don't suppose it will," said Tony.

He bent down and implanted a kiss just under her chin, which Molly
considerately elevated for the purpose, and then, after having
bestowed half a sovereign upon Claudine who glided out into the hall
to open the front door for him, he clambered back into his car and
set off on the return journey.

Having arrived home he drove up to the garage, and leaving the car in
the care of Jennings, walked down the path on to the lawn where he
had left Guy and Isabel.  The chairs they had been sitting on were
still there, but there was no sign of their late occupants.  Thinking
that perhaps another botany lesson was in progress, Tony strolled on
round the garden, but except for a white whiskered gentleman who was
doing something mysterious with a spade, the place seemed to be
deserted.  He returned to the house, and entering the morning-room by
the open French window rang the bell for Spalding.

"They have gone across to number sixteen, Sir Antony," replied the
latter in answer to his inquiry.  "Miss Francis wished to return
before lunch, and Mr. Guy told me to inform you that he and Bugg had
walked across with her.  They will be back by one o'clock."

There was a pause.

"I suppose you heard about our little entertainment there yesterday?"
said Tony.

Spalding inclined his head.  "Mrs. Spalding informed me of the facts,
sir.  They appear to have made a considerable impression upon her."

"Mrs. Spalding was magnificent," said Tony.  "It's quite impossible
to frighten her."

"Quite, sir," agreed Spalding.  "I have observed that myself, sir."

"I hope you don't object, Spalding," said Tony.  "I don't think we
did any harm to your property."

"That's perfectly all right, sir," replied the butler.  "I trust that
you will consider yourself quite at home there.  The house is fully
insured."

"Thank you, Spalding," said Tony.  "You are always very obliging."

Spalding acknowledged the compliment with another grave bow, and
picking up the current copy of the _Auto Car_, which contained a
description of the last Brooklands meeting, Tony sauntered out again
on to the lawn.

Here he established himself comfortably in a basket-chair, and after
lighting a pipe, opened the paper at the article in question.  It was
enriched with several complimentary references to himself and his
driving, and Tony, who liked to hear agreeable sentiments expressed
about any one that he was fond of, read it through with appreciative
interest.  He had just finished, and was lying back in the sunshine
in a pleasant state of contentment with the Universe, when the French
window opened and Spalding came down on to the lawn, carrying a small
silver salver, containing a couple of visiting cards.  He advanced to
where Tony was sitting.

"Two gentlemen have called, sir, and would like to see you."

Tony took out his pipe and shook off the ash on to the grass.

"What are their names, Spalding?" he inquired.

The butler glanced at the cards as if to refresh his memory.

"They are two foreign gentlemen, Sir Antony.  The Marquis da Freitas,
and the Count de Sé."




CHAPTER XIII

A MOVE BY THE ENEMY

There was a moment's pause, and then in a leisurely fashion Tony
knocked the remaining tobacco out of his pipe, and put it away in his
pocket.

"How jolly!" he observed.  "What have you done with them?"

"I have shown them into the library, Sir Antony."

Tony got up from his chair and pulled down his coat.

"Do I look respectable, Spalding?" he asked.  "I shouldn't like to
receive such distinguished visitors with any suggestion of
slovenliness."

Spalding inspected him carefully, and then stepping forward removed a
small piece of white thread from the knee of his trousers.

"There is nothing the matter now, Sir Antony," he replied.

Tony walked leisurely up the steps into the house, and crossing the
morning-room and the hall, opened the door of the library.

Da Freitas and the Count, both irreproachably dressed in frock coats,
were standing on the hearth-rug.

"Hulloa, Marquis!" observed Tony.  "This is awfully nice of you to
come and look me up.  A sort of burying of the pugilistic hatchet,
eh?"

With an affable bow the Marquis accepted his proffered hand.

"It is my hope that we shall always be good friends," he replied in
that smooth purring voice of his.  Then indicating his companion, he
added: "May I have the honour of presenting you to the Count de Sé?"

Tony shook hands in turn with the Count, who in contrast with the
urbane Da Freitas appeared nervous and ill at ease.

"How do you do?" said Tony.  "I suppose it's my imagination, but
d'you know I can't help feeling I have seen you before somewhere."

For a moment the Count seemed at a loss how to reply, and before he
could recover himself the Marquis da Freitas had taken up the
gauntlet.

"You are right, Sir Antony.  You made the Count's acquaintance in
Richmond Park the day before yesterday.  It is that meeting to a
certain extent which is responsible for our visit."

With an air of pleased remembrance, Tony turned back to Isabel's
guardian.

"Why, of course," he exclaimed.  "How stupid of me!  I say, I hope
you didn't hurt yourself when you fell off the car?"

The Count drew himself up.  "It is through a miracle that I was not
killed," he replied with some stiffness.

Tony nodded sympathetically.  "I know," he said.  "That's the danger
of a clay soil.  It gets so hard in hot weather."

A sudden tinge of colour appeared in the Count's parchment-like face,
and once again the soothing tones of Da Freitas broke in upon the
conversation.

"I expect," he said suavely, "that we have all been more or less
under a misunderstanding.  I am quite sure that when matters are
explained this little Comedy of Errors will settle itself."

"I shouldn't wonder," said Tony.  "But won't you both sit down and
have a cigar?  There's no reason we shouldn't be comfortable while we
are talking."

He took a box off the mantelpiece and held it out in turn to his two
guests.  Da Freitas helped himself, and after a second's hesitation
the Count followed suit, as though the tempting appearance of the
cabanas that it contained had proved too strong for his contemplated
refusal.

It was Da Freitas who reopened the conversation.  Having seated
himself on the broad leather-covered couch against the wall, he took
an appreciative pull at his cigar, and then removed it carefully from
between his thick lips.

"I suppose," he said, "that you are aware who the young lady is that
you have apparently been good-natured enough to assist?"

It was the identical question that Congosta had opened with, and Tony
answered it in much the same fashion.

"Why, of course," he said.  "When I make new friends I am always most
careful about their antecedents."

The Marquis looked up at him sharply, but Tony's face remained
absolutely expressionless.

"As you may imagine," continued the former, "it was a cause of
infinite relief to the Count and myself to learn that her foolish
escapade had had no more serious consequences."  He paused.  "We
should be interested to learn how and under what circumstances you
became acquainted."

"We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance in Long Acre," said Tony.

The Marquis raised his eyebrows.  "Ah, indeed!" he replied
courteously.  "I had no idea that Isabella had any acquaintances in
London.  That was one thing that made us so extremely anxious about
her."

He paused again as though giving Tony an opportunity to be a little
more communicative--a thoughtful attention which the latter appeared
to overlook.

"I suppose," he continued with a good-natured laugh, "that the dear
foolish child has been telling you of the terrible tragedies of a
high destiny.  She is incredibly romantic as you have doubtless seen.
It's a charming weakness in a young girl, but"--he shrugged his
shoulders--"well, sometimes we poor elders are forced to appear
unsympathetic in order to be kind."

"Yes," said Tony, "so I gather."

Again the Marquis glanced at him quickly, and then as if partly
reassured by the perfect tranquillity of his countenance, proceeded
in the same strain of benevolent urbanity.

"To youth the claims of duty must always seem hard and unreasonable.
One would not wish it otherwise.  If we were not a little unwise and
impatient in the spring-time of life, what interest would be left to
us for the autumn and the winter?"  He took another pull at his
cigar, and blew out a philosophic cloud of smoke.  "I presume," he
added smilingly, "that you are fully acquainted with the main cause
of our little runaway's desperate decision?"

"I understand," said Tony, "that she was unable to appreciate the
more subtle points of her selected husband?"

Da Freitas waved his hand indulgently.  "Ah, well, my dear Sir
Antony, between ourselves I do not mind admitting that His Majesty is
not perhaps the figure of Romance that a young girl pictures in her
dreams.  But what would you?  He loves her devotedly, and he will
make her a good--an excellent husband.  It will be an ideal marriage
in every way."

"You really think so?" said Tony artlessly.

"I am sure of it.  Why should I have encouraged it otherwise?  We
have nothing to gain politically by such a match.  His Majesty might
have made an alliance with one of the most powerful reigning houses
in Europe, but he loves his cousin, and I am old-fashioned enough to
believe that when there is no great objection it is best to follow
the counsels of the heart."

"But there is a grave objection," said Tony, "--on the lady's part."

Again Da Freitas shrugged his shoulders.  "My dear Sir Antony--a
young girl's whims and fancies!  What are they anyway?  Three parts
shyness and modesty.  Within a week of her marriage she will be
perfectly happy and contented."

Tony leaned back and crossed his legs.  "Well, I'll tell her what you
say," he observed, "but I am afraid I can't hold out much hope."

There was a short and rather pregnant silence.

"The position does not appear to be quite clear to you, Sir Antony,"
remarked Da Freitas with a somewhat excessive politeness.  "While we
appreciate your friendly offer of assistance, there can be no
question of our sending messages through any third party.  The Count
de Sé is Her Highness's legal guardian, and the sooner she is
returned to his care and protection, the better it will be for
everybody concerned."

"I daresay," replied Tony lazily; "but you see there's a difficulty
in the way.  She dislikes him even more than she does you and Pedro."

Da Freitas controlled himself admirably.

"It is scarcely a question of Her Highness's personal feelings," he
observed.  "I fancy that we are the best judges of her future
welfare, and in any case the present state of affairs cannot possibly
be allowed to continue."

"I don't see why," persisted Tony cheerfully.  "I have adopted Isabel
as a cousin, and the arrangement suits us both excellently.  Of
course I am sorry in a way that Pedro should be disappointed, but
after all it only serves him right.  I don't approve of a young man
marrying a nice girl, unless he has led a healthy and reputable life."

This was too much for the Count de Sé, who started up in his chair
with an indignant gasp.

"Sir!" he exclaimed.  "You are insolent."

Tony looked across at him with perfect good temper.

"We are all insolent in England," he said.  "It's the result of there
being no duelling."

"Sir Antony is indulging his sense of humour," broke in Da Freitas
with a dangerous suavity.  "We can hardly insult his intelligence by
suggesting that he is taking up this position seriously.  Otherwise
it might be necessary to remind him that in this great and admirable
country of his there is such a thing as the Law."

"I have been told," said Tony, "that it is our supreme national
achievement."

"It is at least effective," replied Da Freitas with some
significance.  "I understand that it takes a very definite view as to
the detention of a minor from her legal guardian."

"There is only one trouble about the law in England," said Tony.
"It's inclined to be slow in its operation."

Da Freitas' white teeth exhibited themselves in a smile.

"That," he observed, "is a universal weakness in legal systems, but
fortunately there are ways and methods of overcoming it.  In the
present case, for instance, I fancy that a few words from me to your
extremely courteous and obliging Foreign Office might have a very
far-reaching effect."

"I am sure they would," said Tony cordially.  "In fact I shouldn't be
the least surprised if they reached as far as Livadia.  It's
extraordinary how news travels--especially interesting and romantic
news of this sort."

Once again there was a pause in the conversation.  Then Da Freitas
laughed--easily and pleasantly.

"If that remark is intended for a threat, I am afraid that your
information is a little out of date.  His Majesty's intentions are
already known to the government at Portriga."

Tony shook his head.  "I wasn't thinking so much about the
government," he said.  "It was the friends and supporters of the late
Don Francisco that I had in my mind.  I've got an idea that some of
them might like to come over to Richmond and congratulate the Count
on having arranged such a satisfactory marriage."

The effect that this innocent remark produced upon Isabel's uncle was
prompt and remarkable.  His naturally unpleasant complexion went a
sort of dirty green, and flinging his half-smoked cigar on the carpet
he rose unsteadily to his feet.

"Are we to sit here and be threatened and insulted any longer?" he
demanded.

"Apparently not," said Tony, "but all the same there's no need to
burn a hole in my nice carpet."

With a masterful gesture Da Freitas checked his companion's outburst.
Then he too rose from the sofa, and stood facing Tony with the same
easy and smiling urbanity that he had displayed all through the
interview.

"We are flattered at your interest in the affairs of our afflicted
country, Sir Antony; but if you will forgive my offering you a little
advice, it is a dangerous habit to make a plaything out of what other
people take seriously."

Tony stepped to the fireplace and pressed the electric bell.

"All real pleasure seems to have a certain amount of risk about it,"
he admitted sadly.  "The only thing to do is to hope for the best and
take every proper precaution."

The Marquis picked up his hat from the table on which he had placed
it.

"I have heard more foolish remarks," he observed, "from considerably
wiser people."

There was a sound outside, and then the door opened and Spalding
appeared on the threshold.

Tony turned to his guests.  "Have you got a car?" he inquired, "or
can my man drive you anywhere?"

Da Freitas bowed.  "You are very kind," he said, "but there is no
need to trouble you.  We are in the fortunate position of being able
to look after ourselves--in every way."

He walked to the door, followed by the Count de Sé, who haughtily
ignored Tony's polite farewell.  Leaning against the mantelpiece the
latter waited placidly until he heard the grind and scrunch of the
departing car, and then strolling out into the hall discovered
Spalding in the act of closing the front door.

"Have Miss Francis and Mr. Guy come back yet?" he inquired.

"Yes, Sir Antony," replied Spalding.  "They returned a few minutes
ago and are waiting in the garden.  I took the liberty of informing
them who your visitors were.  You had given no instructions, but I
thought you might wish them to know."

"It's a waste of time giving you instructions, Spalding," said Tony.
"Your instincts are so invariably accurate."

Spalding, as usual, acknowledged the compliment with a slight bow.

"Would you wish lunch to be served, sir?" he inquired.  "Or shall I
put it off for a quarter of an hour?"

"Oh, no, you can bring it up," said Tony.  "I want support.  There is
something very exhausting about the foreign aristocracy."

He strolled out into the garden, where Isabel and Guy, who were back
in their old seats, jumped up eagerly to meet him.

"Well?" they inquired simultaneously.

"Fairly so," said Tony, "considering what I have been through.  I had
no idea that this conspiracy business was such an intellectual
strain."

"Oh, what did Da Freitas say?" asked Isabel clasping her hands.  "I
could almost see him standing there smiling and threatening you in
that horrible smooth way of his."

"He was in quite good form," said Tony cheerfully, "and so was Uncle
Phil."  He put his arm through hers.  "But come along in and I'll
tell you all about it while we are having some food.  We mustn't
allow our pleasures to interfere with the more serious duties of
life."

They made their way to the dining-room, where Spalding was just
bringing in lunch, and over an excellent saddle of mutton Tony gave
them a leisurely but animated description of his recent interview.

"I don't know what you think," he finished, "but my own idea is that
Da Freitas was skidding a little from the truth when he said that the
Republican government knew all about Peter's matrimonial plans.  I
don't see how they can, unless Congosta's people have told them, and
that isn't likely."

"They may have spies of their own," suggested Guy.  "They must know
that the King is plotting to come back, and you can be pretty sure
that they are keeping an eye on him some way or other."  He paused.
"I wonder what Da Freitas will do next!" he added.

"We needn't worry ourselves," said Tony.  "We shall find out before
very long.  I never saw a middle-aged nobleman more obviously bent
upon immediate mischief."

Isabel nodded her agreement.  "He always has some plan ready if
another one fails.  In Livadia when he was Prime Minister they used
to call him the Black Spider."

"Do you think he knows where Isabel is?" asked Guy.

"I shouldn't wonder," said Tony placidly.  "He gave me the impression
of having several aces up his sleeve."

Guy frowned thoughtfully.  "I don't think it's very safe leaving her
at Spalding's with only Bugg to look after her.  These people have
big interests at stake and they won't mind what methods they employ."

"No," said Tony, "to do Da Freitas justice I shouldn't think there
was any maudlin fastidiousness about him."  He paused to mix himself
a whisky and soda.  "I am inclined to think you're right, Guy.  The
best thing with these strong, unscrupulous men is to put temptation
out of their reach."

"How do you propose to do it?" asked Guy.

"I shall go along this afternoon to Aunt Fanny and see if I can't
persuade her to ask Isabel to come and stay.  She ought to be quite
safe there.  No one would ever think of looking for a Queen in
Chester Square.  It's so respectable."

"I seem to be getting more of a bother than ever," observed Isabel in
rather a distressed voice.

"Not at all," said Guy firmly.  "Every right-minded person finds it a
pleasure and a privilege to prevent injustice being done."

"Especially to any one beautiful," added Tony.  "It's wonderful how
beauty quickens one's ethical sense."  He turned to Isabel.  "How
would you like to go to a music hall to-night?" he asked.

"Very much," said Isabel promptly.

A faint cloud of disapproval showed itself on Guy's forehead.

"Don't you think a theatre would be more--more appropriate?" he asked.

"No," said Tony, "I don't.  Isabel knows nothing of the deeper and
better side of our English national life, and it's quite time she
learned.  I shall take her to the Empire."  He paused.  "I don't like
leaving her alone all this afternoon though," he added thoughtfully.
"I suppose you couldn't possibly snatch an hour or two, Guy----?"

"Oh, I shall be all right," interrupted Isabel hastily.  "You mustn't
think of putting yourself out for me, Cousin Guy."

Guy laid down his knife and fork.  "My dear Isabel," he said in that
precise and dignified manner of his; "when you know Tony as well as I
do, you won't pay the faintest attention to his remarks.  I am not
the least busy this afternoon and I shall be only too pleased if you
will accept my company."

"I shall be delighted," said Isabel, "but I am not really frightened
of Da Freitas now.  Look what I got yesterday."

She slipped her hand into an inside pocket of the tailormade coat
that she was wearing, and pulled out a tiny little ivory-handled
pistol, which she held out for Tony's inspection.

"It's one of Harrod's," she added, "I saw it in his list.  Isn't it
nice?"

"Charming," said Tony.  "I had no idea that Harrod was so
blood-thirsty."

"Is it loaded?" inquired Guy with a faint trace of anxiety.

"Oh, yes," said Isabel promptly.  "Harrod says it will kill a man at
ten yards."

"You ought to hit Da Freitas all right at ten yards," observed Tony
critically.  "He's very podgy."

"You mustn't encourage her in such ideas," broke in Guy.  "We are not
in Livadia or South America."  He turned to Isabel.  "People don't
shoot at each other in England," he explained.  "It's against the law
and they would be very severely punished.  You had better give me
that to look after for you."

Isabel shook her head.  "I shall shoot at him if he tries to take me
back," she said with determination.  "I would rather go to prison
than marry Pedro."

"A very healthy and reasonable sentiment," remarked Tony.  "Guy has
the most morbid ideas about the sanctity of human life.  He ought to
belong to the National Liberal Club."

Isabel put back the pistol into her pocket, and after one more
unavailing effort Guy abandoned his protest as useless.

"I suppose it's on a par with the rest of the situation," he observed
gloomily.  "We shall probably all end in prison or something worse
before we've finished."

Tony laughed and pushed across the whisky.

"Never mind, Guy," he replied in an encouraging voice.  "We shall be
able to look back on beautiful and well-spent lives, and that's the
only thing that really matters."

It was close on four o'clock when Tony arrived at Chester Square, and
was shown up to the drawing-room by Lady Jocelyn's trim and
efficient-looking parlour-maid.  Lady Jocelyn herself was sitting on
the sofa reading one of Anatole France's earlier novels, and she shut
the book up with a pleased smile as her visitor appeared on the
threshold.

"Dear Tony," she said.  "How nice of you to come so soon.  I have
been positively ill with curiosity.  It's the only disease I can't
bear with dignity."

Tony kissed her affectionately and sat down on the sofa beside her.

"I have brought you the cure, Aunt Fanny," he replied, "but I'm
afraid it's rather an exhausting one.  Do you feel strong enough to
listen to a long and distressing story, involving some of the noblest
names in Europe?"

"The longer and distressinger it is," said Lady Jocelyn, "the more I
shall enjoy it."  She stretched out her hand to a small table beside
her, and pressed an electric bell.  "But perhaps we had better have
tea up first," she added.  "A cup of tea improves the best scandal in
the world.  It makes it seem more abandoned."

"I suppose that accounts for the great wealth of Lipton and Lyons,"
said Tony.  "I had always put it down to their Scottish blood."

The neat parlour-maid returned, and having been requested to bring
tea, duly performed that operation with the deftness and celerity
that characterized all Lady Jocelyn's servants.  Then, having
received instructions that no other visitors were to be admitted, she
retired gracefully from the scene, closing the door behind her.

"Now you can begin, Tony," said Lady Jocelyn, handing him one of her
fragile Sèvres cups.  "Speak slowly and don't omit any of the more
painful details.  I can bear anything provided it's sufficiently
scandalous."

Thus encouraged Tony entered upon his task, and in practically the
same words as he had already told it to Molly he repeated the moving
story of his discovery of Isabel, and the bracing results which had
sprung from their acquaintance.  Lady Jocelyn listened to him with a
silent but deep enjoyment which showed itself plainly in her
twinkling black eyes.  Like Molly she made no interruptions until he
had finished, contenting herself with an occasional nod or an
appreciative smile as the more interesting developments gradually
unrolled themselves.  When the whole story was finally concluded, she
lay back against the cushions and surveyed him with a sort of
affectionate approval.

"My dear Tony," she said.  "I have done you a great injustice.  Ever
since you were a small boy, I have admired your efforts at
brightening the family life, but I never suspected you were capable
of anything like this."

"I think I have always been a little misunderstood," answered Tony
modestly.  "Some people develop late, you know."

Lady Jocelyn laughed softly.  "I can now depart in peace," she said.
"If any one had told me that I should live to see Laura and Henry
mixed up even remotely in a bloodthirsty European scandal--"  She
broke off, as if mere words were inadequate to express the depth of
her emotions.

"It is rather joyous, isn't it?" said Tony.  "Still it's their own
fault, you know.  They have been worrying me to take up some serious
profession ever since the war."

"Well, they can't complain then," agreed Lady Jocelyn.  "Kidnapping
Queens is one of the most serious professions that any young man
could possibly adopt."  She arranged herself a little more
comfortably on the sofa, and looked across at Tony with a smile.
"And what about my part in the play?" she asked.  "Am I to be the
Fairy Godmother?"

For a moment Tony paused.  "I don't know," he said.  "Upon my soul I
don't like to drag you into it, Aunt Fanny."

"Nonsense," retorted Lady Jocelyn briskly.  "People of my age require
a little mental stimulant to keep their interest in life alive."  She
paused.  "Besides, you must think of the girl.  Even a Princess's
reputation has to be considered."

Tony nodded.  "That's our weak point," he observed.  "We've got a
good hand, but we're a bit thin on chaperons."

"It's quite simple," said Lady Jocelyn.  "You must bring her to stay
with me.  I am sure we should get along together excellently.  I like
girls with red hair."

"I did think of it," admitted Tony; "but you know, Aunt Fanny, it's
really rather risky.  Those sleek purring people like Da Freitas are
dangerous beggars when they mean mischief."

"I am not frightened," answered Lady Jocelyn calmly.  "There is a
very reliable policeman at the corner, and the house is heavily
insured."  She laid down the piece of silk knitting which she had
picked up after tea.  "Tony," she said suddenly, "I have got an idea.
If you are really determined to play the knight errant for this young
woman, why don't you put that very comfortable steam yacht of yours
into commission and take her away out of danger?  If you will go to
some nice place I don't mind coming with you and looking after the
proprieties.  I am very fond of a sea voyage even now."

Tony sat up and gazed at her with admiration.

"My dear Aunt Fanny!" he exclaimed.  "That's not an idea.  That's a
stroke of pure genius."  He paused as if to allow the full brilliance
of the suggestion to sink into him.  "I could bring Guy too," he
added, "and then we should have a four for bridge."

"If Guy would come," said Lady Jocelyn.  "He probably considers the
ocean not quite respectable."

"Oh, he'd come all right," said Tony.  "He's getting much
broader-minded, especially where Isabel's concerned."  He got up from
the sofa.  "I will send a wire to Simmons on my way back.  The
_Betty_ is in Southampton and it won't take more than a day or two to
get her ready."

"You are going to bring Isabel to stay with me just the same, I
suppose?" asked Lady Jocelyn.  "Apart altogether from Mrs. Grundy, I
should think it would be much safer for her to leave Hampstead.  I
expect Da Freitas knows where she is, and in that case she must be in
a certain amount of danger."

Tony nodded.  "I will bring her along myself to-morrow morning," he
said.  "The house is probably watched, but I shall take her a nice
little run in the Peugot first.  I don't think any one will find out
where we finish up."  He paused.  "You really are a darling, Aunt
Fanny," he added.  "I have no idea how to thank you."

Lady Jocelyn smiled at him placidly.  "I will tell you, Tony," she
said, "after I have seen Isabel."

There is a small confectioner's shop, not a hundred yards from
Victoria Station, which for some dark purpose of his own the Post
Master General has enriched with a Telegraph Office.  Here Tony
halted the car on his return journey, and sauntering up to the desk
inside, selected a form, which after some consideration he filled up
with the following message:----


  To CAPTAIN SIMMONS,
    Steam yacht Betty,
    Southampton.

Please make all preparations immediate sailing.  Party of six or
seven including servants.  Duration of voyage uncertain.  Wire
earliest date likely to be ready.  Hope you're well.

CONWAY.


He handed it to the girl behind the counter, an anæmic young lady of
about seventeen, who having read it carefully with the aid of a
pencil, looked up at him with a rather wistful envy.

"One shilling and eightpence," she observed.  Then in a low voice she
added: "Wish I was comin' too.  Some people have all the luck."

Tony put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a five-pound note.  He
glanced round, and seeing that no one was observing them, pushed it
across the counter.

"Never mind, Gwendoline," he said encouragingly.  "Pay for the
telegram out of that, and try to keep the other nine commandments."

Then, before the astounded young lady had recovered her power of
speech, he lifted his hat, and strolled off out of the shop in the
same leisurely fashion as he had entered it.




CHAPTER XIV

A DISTURBANCE IN HAMPSTEAD

Isabel gazed round the cheerful, brightly lighted little restaurant
with a glance of complete contentment.

"I am quite sure father was wrong about our being the rightful heirs
to the throne," she said.  "Anyhow, I don't feel the least like a
queen."

"You mustn't be so exacting," replied Tony.  "You look like one; and
that's all that any reasonable girl has any right to expect."

"Still," persisted Isabel, "I expect that proper kings and queens
have a special sort of Royal feeling inside.  I haven't got it in the
least.  I have been a thousand times happier since I ran away than I
ever should be if I was stuck up on a throne.  It's the silly
pretence of it all that I should hate so.  Even the sort of
semi-state that we used to keep up when Father was alive nearly drove
me mad.  It was like being surrounded by a lot of stupid shadows.  Do
you know that except for Miss Watson, you and Cousin Guy are the
first _real_ people I have ever met."

"There are not many about," said Tony.  "At least that's how it seems
to me.  I always feel as if I was in the stalls of a theatre looking
on at a play.  The only real people are one's friends who are sitting
alongside, criticizing and abusing it."

Isabel nodded.  "It's the first time I have been in the audience,"
she said.  "Up till now I haven't even done any acting.  I have just
been waiting behind the scenes as a sort of understudy."

They had just finished dinner and were dawdling pleasantly over
coffee and cigarettes in the soothing atmosphere of the Café Bruges.
They had chosen that discreet but excellent little restaurant as the
one in which they were least likely to run across inconvenient
acquaintances, since its clientele consists almost entirely of Board
of Trade officials, who take little interest in anything outside of
their own absorbing profession.  Compared with these deserving but
sombre people Isabel looked very young and charming.  The strained,
hunted look had quite gone out of her face, and in the softly shaded
light her amber eyes shone with a contented happiness that Tony found
extremely attractive.

"I think you will find Aunt Fanny real enough," he said, tipping off
the end of his cigarette into the saucer.  "At least she always seems
amazingly so to me."

"I am sure we shall get along together splendidly," said Isabel.
"She sounds a dear from what you have told me about her."

"She is," replied Tony with as near an approach to enthusiasm as he
ever attained.  "She is the most complete and delightful aunt in the
world.  Fancy an ordinary aunt of seventy-two offering to come with
us on the _Betty_!"

"I am looking forward to it so much," exclaimed Isabel happily.  "I
love the sea.  I should like to go right round the world and then
back again."

Tony contemplated her with lazy enjoyment.  "Well, there's nothing to
stop us," he said, "unless Aunt Fanny or Guy object.  I am afraid
it's not quite Guy's idea of a really useful and intelligent
employment."

"He _is_ serious," admitted Isabel, "but he is very kind.  I daresay
he wouldn't mind if I asked him nicely."

"It's quite possible," said Tony gravely.  He glanced at his watch.
"We ought to be getting along to the Empire," he added, "or we shall
miss the performing sea lions.  I wouldn't have that happen for
anything in the world."

He paid the bill, and leaving the restaurant they strolled off
through the brightly lighted streets in the direction of Leicester
Square.  It was a delightfully fine evening, and Isabel, who had
insisted on walking, drank in the varied scene with an interest and
enjoyment that would have satisfied Charles Lamb.  There was a
freshness and excitement about her pleasure in it all that spoke
eloquently of the dull life she must have been forced to lead by her
guardian, and Tony felt more gratified than ever at his remembrance
of the heavy thud with which that gentleman had rebounded from the
sun-baked soil of Richmond Park.

It cannot justly be said that the Empire programme contained any very
refreshing novelties, but Isabel's enthusiasm was contagious.  Tony
found himself applauding the sea lions and the latest half naked
dancer with generous if indiscriminating heartiness, while the jests
of a certain comedian took on a delicate freshness that they had not
known since the earliest years of the century.

It was not until the orchestra had completed their somewhat hasty
rendering of _God Save the King_, that Isabel, with a little sigh of
satisfaction, expressed herself ready to depart.  They strolled down
together to the R.A.C. Garage where Tony had left the car, and in a
few minutes they were picking their way through the still crowded
streets of the West End in the direction of Hampstead.

From Tottenham Court Road they had a beautiful clear run home, the
Hispano sweeping up Haverstock Hill with that effortless rhythm that
only a perfectly tuned-up car can achieve.  They rounded the quiet
deserted corner of Latimer Lane, and gliding gently along in the
shadow of the trees, pulled up noiselessly outside Mrs. Spalding's
house.

"Hullo," said Tony.  "Somebody else has been dissipating too."

He pointed up the road to where about thirty yards ahead, the
tail-light of another car could be seen outside one of the houses.

Isabel laughed with a kind of soft happiness.  "I hope they have had
as nice an evening as we have," she observed generously.

Pulling her skirt round her, she stepped lightly out of the car, and
having switched off the engine, Tony followed suit.

"I will just come in and see that everything's right," he said.  "I
told Bugg that we should be back about eleven-thirty."

He moved towards the gate which was in deep shadow and laid his hand
upon the latch.  As he did so there was the faintest possible rustle
in the darkness beside him.  With amazing swiftness he wheeled round
in the direction of the sound, but even so he was just too late.  A
savage blow in the mouth sent him staggering back against the
gate-post and then before he could recover a figure leapt out on him
with the swiftness of a panther, and clutched him viciously around
the body.  At the same instant a second man sprang out from the
gloom, and snatched up Isabel in his arms.

Half dazed as he was by the blow, Tony struggled fiercely with his
unknown assailant.  Swaying and straining they crashed backwards
together into the garden gate, and the suffocating grip round his
waist momentarily slackened.

"Bugg!" he roared at the top of his voice.  "Bugg!!"  In the darkness
a hand seized him by the throat, but with a tremendous effort he
managed to shake it off, and jerking his head forward brought the top
of his forehead in violent contact with the bridge of his assailant's
nose.  A yelp of agony went up into the night, and at the same
instant a swift patter of footsteps could be heard hurrying down the
garden path.

Either this sound or else the pain of the blow seemed to have a
disturbing effect upon the stranger, for once again his grip loosened
and with a final effort Tony tore himself free.  He was panting for
breath, and the blood was trickling from his cut lips, but his only
thought was for Isabel's safety.  Thirty yards away in the gleam of
his own headlights he could see a furious scuffle taking place
outside the other car.  With a shout of encouragement he hurled
himself to the rescue, and even as he did so the quick sharp sound of
a pistol rang out like the crack of a whip.  The struggling mass
broke up into two figures--one of which reeled against the car with
his hands to its head, while the other--Isabel herself--staggered
back feebly in the opposite direction.  Tony flung his last available
ounce of energy into a supreme effort, but the distance was too great
to cover in the time.  Just as he reached the spot there came the
grinding clang of a clutch being hastily thrust in, and the car
jerked off up the road with the door swinging loose upon its hinges.

For a moment both he and Isabel were too exhausted to speak.  Panting
and trembling she clung to his shoulder, the little smoking pistol
still clutched tightly in her hand.

Tony was the first to recover his breath.

"Well done, Isabel," he gasped.

She looked up at him, her breast rising and falling quickly, and her
brown eyes full of a sort of passionate concern.

"Oh, Tony," she said, "you're hurt.  Your face is all covered with
blood."

Tony pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed it against his lips.
"It's nothing," he said cheerfully, "nothing at all.  I bleed very
easily if any one hits me in the mouth.  All really well bred people
do."  He bent down and took the little pistol out of her hand.  "Who
was the gentleman you shot?" he asked.

Isabel shook her head.  "I don't know.  I have never seen him before.
He was a rough, common man with a red face.'

"He ought to die all right anyhow," said Tony hopefully.  "It was
nothing like the ten yards, and Harrod is very reliable as a rule."

"I'm afraid he won't," said Isabel in a rather depressed voice.  "I
aimed at his head, but he ducked and I think I only shot his ear off."

"Well, we won't bother to look for it," said Tony.  "I don't suppose
it was a particularly nice one."  He turned and glanced down the
road.  "Hullo," he added, "here comes Bugg!  I wonder what he's done
with the other chap."

With an anxious expression upon his face, the faithful "Tiger" was
hurrying along the pavement towards them, moving with that swift
cat-like tread that stamps the well-trained athlete.  He pulled up
with a sigh of relief on seeing that they were both apparently safe.

"Sorry I was so long comin', Sir Ant'ny," he observed.  "I didn't
'ear nothin'--not till you shouts 'Bugg.'"

"I didn't notice any appreciable delay," replied Tony kindly.  "Who
was our little friend at the gate?"

Bugg's face hardened into the somewhat grim expression it generally
wore in the ring.  "It was that swine Lopez--beggin' your pardon,
miss.  But it was 'im all right, sir: there ain't no error abaht
that."

Tony's damaged lips framed themselves into a low whistle.  "Lopez,
was it!" he said softly.  "I ought to have guessed.  There was a
touch of the expert about that punch."

"'E ain't 'urt yer, 'as 'e, sir?" demanded Bugg anxiously.

"Oh, no," said Tony, "but he had a very praise-worthy try."

Bugg chuckled.  "You done it on _'im_ proper, sir.  I seed 'is face
w'en 'e come aht in the lamp-light, and 'e didn't look as if 'e
wanted no more.  Any'ow 'e wasn't exac'ly waitin' for it."

"Bolted, I suppose?" said Tony laconically.

Bugg nodded.  "Run like a stag, sir.  I didn't go after 'im, not far:
I reckoned you might be wantin' me 'ere."

"Well, we'd better be getting into the house," said Tony.  "We shall
have some of the neighbours out in a minute.  They are not used to
these little scuffles in Hampstead."

Even as he spoke one of the front gates clicked, and an elderly
gentleman in carpet slippers and a purple dressing-gown appeared on
the pavement.  He was clutching a poker in his right hand, and he
seemed to be in a state of considerable agitation.

On seeing the small group he came to an abrupt halt, and drew back
his weapon ready for instant action.

"What has happened?" he demanded shrilly.  "I insist upon knowing
what has happened."

With a disarming smile Tony advanced towards him.

"How do you do?" he said pleasantly.  "I am Sir Antony Conway of
Goodman's Rest."

The elderly gentleman's harassed face changed at once to that affable
expression which all respectable Englishmen assume in the presence of
rank and wealth.

"Indeed--indeed, sir," he observed.  "I am delighted to meet you.
Perhaps you can inform me what has occurred.  I was aroused from my
sleep by the sound of firearms--firearms in Hampstead--sir!"

"I know," said Tony; "it's disgraceful, isn't it--considering the
rates we have to pay?"  He made a gesture towards the car.  "I am
afraid I can't tell you very much.  I was driving my cousin back from
the theatre, and when we pulled up we ran right into what looked like
a Corsican vendetta.  I tried to interfere, and somebody hit me in
the mouth for my pains.  Then I think they must have heard you
coming, because they all cleared out quite suddenly."

The elderly gentleman drew himself up into an almost truculent
attitude.

"It is fortunate that I was awakened in time," he said.  "Had I been
a sound sleeper--"  He paused as though words were inadequate to
convey the catastrophe that might have ensued.  "All the same," he
added with true British indignation, "it's perfectly scandalous that
such things should be allowed to take place in a respectable
neighbourhood like this.  I shall certainly complain to the police
the first thing in the morning."

"Yes, do," said Tony, "only look here, I mustn't keep you standing
about any longer or you will be catching cold.  That would be a poor
return for saving my life, wouldn't it?"

He wrung the old gentleman's hand warmly, and the latter, who by this
time had apparently begun to believe that he had really achieved some
desperate feat of heroism, strutted back up his garden path with the
poker swinging fiercely in his hand.

Tony turned to the others.  "Come along," he said.  "Let's get in
before any more of our rescuers arrive."

Bugg had left the front door of Mrs. Spalding's house open, and they
made their way straight into the little sitting-room, where the gas
was burning cheerfully, and a tray of whisky and soda had been set
out on the table.

Tony inspected the latter with an approving eye.

"You are picking up the English language very quickly, Isabel," he
remarked.

She smiled happily.  "I asked Mrs. Spalding to get it for me," she
said.  "I know that men like to drink at funny times--at least all
father's friends used to."  She pulled up an easy-chair to the table.
"Now you have got to sit down and help yourself," she added.  "I am
going to get some warm water and bathe your mouth.  It's dreadfully
cut."

Tony started to protest, but she had already left the room, and by
the time he had mixed and despatched a very welcome peg, she was back
again with a small steaming basin and some soft handkerchiefs.

He again attempted to raise some objection, but with a pretty
imperiousness she insisted on his lying back in the chair.  Then
bending over him she tenderly bathed and dried his cut lips,
performing the operation with the gentleness and skill of a properly
trained nurse.

"Perhaps you're right after all about the Royal blood," he said,
sitting up and inspecting himself carefully in a hand-glass.  "I
doubt if any genuine queen could have so many useful accomplishments."

"I have never been allowed to do anything for anybody yet," said
Isabel contentedly.  "I have got a lot of lost time to make up."

Tony took her hands, which she now surrendered to him without any
trace of the slight embarrassment that had formerly marked their
relationship.

"You are only just beginning life, Isabel," he said.  "You have all
the advantage of being born suddenly at eighteen.  It's much the
nicest arrangement, really, because no intelligent person ever enjoys
their childhood or schooldays."  He released her hands, and glanced
across at the clock on the mantelpiece.  "It's time you went to bed,"
he added.  "We'll talk about our adventure in the morning.  One
should always have a good night's rest after shooting off anybody's
ear.  It steadies the nerves."

"All right," said Isabel obediently.  "I don't suppose they will try
again to-night, do you?"

Tony shook his head.  "No," he replied; "otherwise I would stay here
and sleep on the mat."  He took up his hat off the table.  "Try and
get packed by eleven if you can manage it.  I will come round and
call for you with the Peugot: your things will just go nicely into
the back."  He paused.  "Good-night, Isabel, dear."

She looked up at him with that frank, trustful smile of hers.

"Good-night, Tony, dear," she said.

* * * * * * *

It was exactly a quarter to one the next day, when the second curate
at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, whose mind was full of a sermon that he
was composing, stepped carelessly off the pavement into the roadway.
This rash act very nearly ended any chances of his becoming a bishop,
for a large travel-stained car that was coming along Holbein Place at
a considerable speed, only just swerved out of his path by the
fraction of an inch.  With an exclamation that sounded
extraordinarily like "dammit" the curate leaped back on to the
pavement, and turning down Chester Square, the car pulled up in front
of Lady Jocelyn's.

Tony and Isabel stepped out, and with a certain air of satisfaction
the former glanced round the comparatively deserted landscape.

"I think we have baffled them, Isabel," he said, "unless that curate
was a spy."

Isabel laughed.  "He was very nearly a corpse," she remarked.

The door of the house opened, emitting two of Lady Jocelyn's trim
maids, who were evidently expecting their arrival.  Tony assisted
them to collect the luggage and carry it into the house, and then
following one of them upstairs, he and Isabel were ushered into the
drawing-room, where Lady Jocelyn was waiting to receive them.

"This is Isabel, Aunt Fanny," he said.

Lady Jocelyn took in the rightful Queen of Livadia with one of her
shrewd, kindly glances.

"My dear," she said, "you are very pretty.  Come and sit down."

Isabel, smiling happily, seated herself on the sofa beside her
hostess, while Tony established himself on the hearth-rug in front of
the fireplace.

"She is an improved edition of Molly Monk," he observed contentedly;
"and Molly is supposed to be one of the prettiest girls in London."

"You ought to be nice-looking," said Lady Jocelyn, patting Isabel's
hand.  "Your father was a splendidly handsome man before he took to
drink.  I remember the portraits of him they used to stick up in
Portriga, whenever Pedro's father was more than usually unpopular."
She turned to Tony.  "I am thankful that you have got her here
safely," she added.  "I stayed awake quite a long time last night
wondering if you were having your throats cut."

Tony laughed.  "No," he said; "it was only my lip, and Isabel patched
it up very nicely."

Lady Jocelyn put on her tortoise-shell spectacles, and inspected him
gently.

"My dear Tony," she said, "now I come to look at you I can see that
you are a little out of drawing.  I was so interested in Isabel I
never noticed it before."

"It's only temporary," said Tony.  "My beauty will return."  He
glanced at the clock, and then pulled up an easy-chair.  "I will tell
you the whole story if you like, Aunt Fanny.  There is just time
before lunch, and it always gives me an appetite to talk about
myself."

[Illustration: "I will tell you the whole story if you like, Aunt
Fanny.  There is just time before lunch, and it always gives me an
appetite to talk about myself." Lady Jocelyn nodded.  "Go on, Tony,"
she said encouragingly.  "We have plenty of food in the house."]

Lady Jocelyn nodded.  "Go on, Tony," she said, encouragingly.  "We
have plenty of food in the house."

There is something rather effective about a really incongruous
atmosphere, and described the next morning, with the solid
respectability of Chester Square as a background, the midnight battle
of Latimer Lane seemed to gain rather than lose in vividness.  Tony
told it with what for him was a really praiseworthy restraint and
directness, and he had just got to the end when the door opened and
the parlour-maid announced that lunch was ready.

Lady Jocelyn rose from the sofa.  "Let us go and have something to
eat," she said.  "I feel absolutely in need of support.  Your society
has always been stimulating, Tony; but since you have adopted a
profession I find it almost overwhelming."

She put her arm through Isabel's, and they made their way down to the
dining-room where a dainty little lunch was waiting their attention.
For a few minutes the conversation took a briskly gastronomic trend,
and then, having dismissed the parlour-maid Lady Jocelyn turned to
Tony.

"You can go on," she said.  "I feel stronger now."

"I don't know that there's very much more to tell," said Tony.  "I
had to explain it all to Guy who was very hard and unsympathetic.  He
said it served me right for taking Isabel to the Empire, and that it
was only through the mercy of Heaven we were both not wanted for
murder.  I think he must have meant Harrod, but he said Heaven."

"They are not at all alive," replied Lady Jocelyn, "at least I hope
not.  I should hate to spend eternity in Harrod's."  She paused.  "I
wonder if there is any chance of your having been followed this
morning?"

"I don't think so," said Tony.  "They probably watched us start, but
I took a little tour round Barnet and Hertford before coming here.
We didn't see any one following us--did we, Isabel?"

Isabel shook her head.  "I don't think Da Freitas would try," she
said, "not if he has seen you drive.  He never wastes his time upon
impossibilities."

Lady Jocelyn laughed.  "My dear," she said gently; "you mustn't make
jokes if you want to be taken for a genuine queen.  Joking went out
of fashion with Charles the Second.  Nowadays no Royalty has any
sense of humour; indeed in Germany it's regarded as a legal bar to
the throne."  She turned back to Tony.  "Have you heard from your
captain yet?"

Tony nodded.  "I had a wire this morning.  He says the _Betty_ can be
ready for sea any time after Thursday."

"That's the best of being a ship," observed Lady Jocelyn a little
enviously.  "One has only to paint oneself and take in some food and
one's ready to go anywhere.  I have to buy clothes, and make my will,
and invent some story that will satisfy my brother-in-law the Dean.
I promised to go and stay with him next month: and it will have to be
a good story, because Deans are rather clever at that sort of thing
themselves."

"I think it's so kind of you to come with us," observed Isabel simply.

"My dear," said Lady Jocelyn, "I couldn't possibly allow you to go
away alone on the _Betty_ with Tony and Guy.  It would be so bad for
the morals of the captain."  She pressed the electric bell.  "By the
way, Tony--is Guy coming, and have you decided yet where you are
going to take us?"

"Guy's coming all right," replied Tony.  "He has gone to the Stores
this morning to look through their patent life-saving waistcoats."
He helped himself to a glass of Hock.  "I thought we might try Buenos
Ayres, Aunt Fanny.  It's just the right time of year."

"I have no objection," said Lady Jocelyn.  "I don't know much about
it except that you pronounce it wrong, Tony."

"It's quite a nice place, I believe," said Tony.  "They buy all our
best race-horses."

There was a brief interval while the parlour-maid, who had just come
in, cleared away their plates, and presented them with a fresh course.

"I haven't a great number of race-horses to dispose of," observed
Lady Jocelyn, when the girl had again withdrawn, "but all the same I
shall be very pleased to go to Buenos Ayres.  When do you propose to
start?"

"Whenever you like," said Tony generously.

Lady Jocelyn reflected for a moment.  "I think I could be ready by
to-day week.  We oughtn't to be longer than we can help or Da Freitas
may find out where you have hidden Isabel."

"To-day week it shall be," said Tony.  "I will send Simmons a wire to
have everything ready, and then we can all motor down in the Rolls
and start straight away."

"And in the meantime," observed Lady Jocelyn, "I think it would be
wiser if you didn't come here at all, Tony.  They are sure to keep a
pretty close eye on you, and you might be followed in spite of all
your precautions.  I am not nervous, but we don't want to have Isabel
shooting people on the doorstep.  It would upset the maids so."

"I expect you're right, Aunt Fanny," said Tony a little sadly, "but
it will be very unpleasant.  I have got used to Isabel now, and I
hate changing my habits."

"It will be quite good for you," returned Lady Jocelyn firmly.  "You
are so accustomed to having everything you want in life it must
become positively monotonous."  She turned to Isabel.  "You can
always talk to Tony on the telephone, you know, when you get bored
with an old woman's society."

Isabel smiled.  "I don't think I shall wait for that," she said, "or
we might never talk at all."




CHAPTER XV

IMPENDING EVENTS

"There's a letter for you," said Guy, "from Livadia."

Tony walked to his place at the breakfast table and picked up the
missive in question which was propped against the Times beside his
plate.

"It's from Jimmy," he observed tranquilly.  "How exciting!"

He opened the envelope and took out the contents--a large sheet of
thin paper covered on both sides with a small neat handwriting.
Sitting down in his chair he spread it out in front of him.


  GARAGE ANGLAIS,
    PRAÇA D. PORTO.
      Portriga.

MY DEAR TONY:

It was very nice and unexpected of you to answer my
letter--especially within three months of your having received it.
You must be getting quite energetic in your old age, or is it only
due to the influence of "the young and beautiful friend who takes a
morbid interest in Livadian politics?"  Anyhow, it's comforting to
know that you're still alive, and that you still have young and
beautiful friends.  I was half afraid that I was the last of them.

Now with regard to your questions.  The only thing that seems pretty
certain about the future here is that there's going to be a Hell of a
dust up before long.  It's an open secret that the Royalists are
plotting all over the place, and that they've got a good part of the
officers in the army with them.  Down in the south, however, there
seems to be a strong party that's in favour of the other branch--the
descendants of that drunken scoundrel Don Francisco--whoever they
happen to be.  Personally I can't say I take much interest in any of
them.  Apart from my garage, I think the best thing for Europe would
be if the whole damn lot cut each other's throats.  I except the old
President, who is not half a bad sort--and has a very pretty taste in
cigars and champagne.  He is all right, however, because I know he
has a good parcel tucked away somewhere, and means to do a bunk
directly things get too hot.  If I were you I should tell your young
and beautiful friend to give up taking an interest in Livadian
politics and start keeping rattlesnakes.  It's a much more healthy
and profitable hobby.

I have had one stroke of luck.  I have managed to palm off my
business here on a local syndicate for a couple of thou., and am now
employed as Managing Director at £500 a year and commission.
"Commission" in Portriga means whatever you can cheat out of the
customers or steal from your employers.  So far I am doing nicely at
both, thank you, but I don't expect it will last long.  Another
revolution of course would bust us up altogether, because the first
thing that would happen would be that both sides would come down and
snaffle our cars.  So I am just making an honest living while the sun
shines, and leaving the rest to Prov.

You are three sorts of a brick to think out that job in Piccadilly,
but as it stands it's rather too one-sided an arrangement.  I
couldn't take it unless I was in a position to shove in a little of
my own money too.  Practically all I've got at present would have to
go to my dear creditors, who have been so patient and
long-suffering--I don't think!--God bless 'em.  If you will keep it
open for say, another year--by which time I ought to have swindled
the Garage Anglais out of quite a decent sum--I shall be only too
delighted to come back and wipe the floor with you at billiards as
often as you like.  Your notion that you can beat me is one of the
most pathetic instances of monomania I ever came across.

Remember me to Guy, who I suppose is as frivolous as ever, and give
my love to any of the old crowd who are still knocking around.

  Yours ever,
    JIMMY.

Given from our place of hiding this third day of the fifth month in
the second year of our exile.


Tony read this letter through and then tossed it across to Guy, who
perused it in turn between mouthfuls of egg and bacon.

"His troubles don't seem to have sobered him down at all," he
observed rather disapprovingly.

"I hope not," said Tony.  "A sobered down Jimmy would be a lamentable
object--something like an archangel with his wings clipped."

"What he says is true enough, I suppose," pursued Guy.  "At least it
only confirms what Congosta told us."

Tony nodded.  "Things are on the move all right," he remarked
complacently.  "I am pretty sure Da Freitas meant to press the button
just as soon as the wedding was over.  He must be tearing his back
hair over this hitch in the programme."

"I am glad we have got Isabel away from the Spaldings," observed Guy,
handing back the letter, "I shan't feel really easy in my mind
though, until she is on board the _Betty_."

"Well, it won't be long now," said Tony, "and anyway she is pretty
safe at Chester Square.  Aunt Fanny is keeping her tight to the
house, and so far they haven't seen a sign of any one hanging about.
I really think we handed 'em the dummy all right, though it doesn't
do to be too sure about things with a gentleman like Da Freitas."

"I wish we had some idea what he was up to," said Guy.  "There is
something very trying about this uncertainty."

"I have hopes of Molly," replied Tony, pouring himself out a second
cup of tea in an absent-minded fashion.  "She rang me up yesterday
while I was out, and left a message that I was to come and see her
this morning without fail."  He took a meditative sip, and then set
down the cup.  "It's about time we heard something from Congosta
too," he added.

Guy shrugged his shoulders.  "I shouldn't put any faith in him.  He
is probably playing his own game just as much as Da Freitas is."

Tony looked at him sadly.  "You get more cynical every day, Guy.  I
believe in Congosta.  No man could have such a beautiful faith in the
British Aristocracy unless there was some good in him."  He pushed
back his chair and rose from the table.  "I'm off to see Molly
anyway," he added.  "I've a feeling that she has something exciting
to tell us, and a certain amount of excitement has become necessary
to my system.  I can't get my afternoon sleep without it."

"I wish you would try to be a little more serious," answered Guy in a
fretful voice.

Tony paused at the door.  "I do try," he said apologetically, "but
it's very difficult for a beginner."

It was just a quarter past ten when Tony arrived outside Basil
Mansions, the big block of flats where Molly lived.  He caught sight
of a clock as he pulled up the car, and it suddenly struck him that
in spite of the urgency of Molly's message, it was still rather early
to disturb her slumbers.  He hesitated for a moment, and then decided
to fill in a little time by motoring on to the R.A.C. and calling for
his letters.

Amongst the several clubs to which he belonged the latter was the one
at which he was accustomed to receive the largest number of
communications.  The majority of them were trade circulars from motor
firms, and it was his custom to drop in at least twice a week and
commit them to the hall porter's waste-paper basket.

Putting in his clutch he continued his journey, and was just rounding
the corner of Pall Mall, when he suddenly became aware of the
immaculately dressed figure of his cousin Henry striding briskly
along the pavement towards him in the direction of Whitehall.  The
encounter was too sudden to admit of any strategy, so with a graceful
resignation to fate he brought the car to a halt.

Henry came up with a look of surprise upon his face.

"One doesn't often see you about as early as this," he observed.

"You will in future," said Tony.  "I have turned over a new leaf.  I
find that all our successful statesmen have been early risers."

"I am pleased to hear it," said Henry heartily.  "I always thought
that if you ever took up politics it would make all the difference to
you."

"It has," said Tony.

There was a short pause.

"Did you get that White Book about the Patagonia boundary dispute?"
inquired his cousin.

Tony nodded.  "I did," he said.  "I haven't had time to read it all
yet, but it seems most interesting.  Such good print too."

"They get them up very well," said Henry.  "I will send you round
some more as soon as you have gone through that.  There is nothing
like a thorough grounding before you start work."

"I wish you would," replied Tony.  "I was half thinking of running
across to South America in the _Betty_ with Guy, and looking into
things myself for a few weeks.  I should like to have some nice
interesting reading for the voyage."

Henry looked at him in surprised approval.  "I think that's a very
good idea," he said.  "Laura will be extremely pleased when I tell
her, because it shows that you are taking the matter seriously."  He
pulled out a little tablet from his waistcoat pocket and made a note
in pencil.  "I will see if I can get you a few letters of
introduction to some of our people over there.  I shall say of course
that you are just taking a voyage for your health."

"That's about right," said Tony.  "Thanks so much.  I must be
trotting now, or I shall be late for an appointment."

He waved a good-bye and started off the car again, while Henry,
putting back his memorandum tablet, continued his way to the Home
Office.

Half an hour later, having disposed of the motor circulars and having
restored his energies with a brandy and soda, Tony set out again for
Basil Mansions.  It was still only eleven o'clock, but Claudine, who
answered the bell, informed him that Molly was already up and
awaiting his arrival in the drawing-room.

He found her as usual sitting at the piano, practising over a song.
She spun round on the stool at his entrance, and then jumped up with
both her hands outstretched.

"Oh, Tony," she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come."

He waited until Claudine had closed the door, and then kissed her
carefully on the curve of her cheek.

"I should have been here long before, Molly," he said, "but I was
afraid of waking you up.  A good night's rest is so essential to
brain-workers."

"I have been up ages," she replied.  "I can never sleep when I am
excited or worried--at least not after nine o'clock."

"What's worrying you?" he asked, settling himself on the sofa.

She sat down beside him.  "It's Peter," she said.  "He was here
yesterday--yesterday afternoon.  I rang you up directly he had gone."

"Well?" inquired Tony.

Molly took a deep breath.  "He had come to say good-bye."

Tony sat up.  "What?" he demanded.

Molly nodded her head.  "He didn't admit it in so many words, but
that's what it came to."

There was a short pause.

"He must have more nerve than I gave him credit for," said Tony
slowly.

"Oh, I don't mean good-bye altogether," said Molly with a little
laugh.  "That isn't Peter's idea at all."  She jumped up from the
sofa, and crossing to the writing-table in the corner opened the
drawer and took out something from inside.  "Look at this," she said.

"This," was a half sheet of stiff note-paper stamped in gold with the
Royal Livadian arms, and bearing two or three straggling lines of
writing, at the bottom of which sprawled a large irregular signature.

[Illustration: Signature--Pedro R.]


Tony examined it with interest.  "It looks very impressive," he said.
"What's it all about?"

"It's a sort of pass," said Molly calmly, "like one gets for a
theatre, you know.  It means 'do whatever the bearer wishes without
asking any questions.'"  She took it back from him and slipped it
into the envelope which she was holding in her hand.  "That would
take me anywhere I pleased in Livadia if Peter was king."

"But what's the good of it now?" asked Tony.  "Why has he given it
you?"

Molly crossed to the writing-table, and putting the envelope back,
shut the door and locked it.

"I will tell you exactly what happened," she said, coming back and
re-seating herself on the sofa.  "Peter rolled up here about five
o'clock yesterday in a taxi--not in his car--just in an ordinary
taxi.  I guessed there was trouble because when he does that it
always means that he doesn't want Da Freitas to find out where he's
been.  Well, I gave him a drink, and he sat and talked for a bit in
his ordinary way, but all the time I could see that there was
something at the back of his mind--something he didn't quite know how
to say.  At last he managed to get it out.  He wanted to know if I
would trust him.  If he had to go away suddenly, or if anything
happened which made it impossible for him to see me for a little
while, would I still believe that I was the only person in the world
he really cared about?  I pretended to be very surprised and asked
what he expected to happen, but he wouldn't admit that there was
anything definite or certain.  He talked vaguely about a king not
being his own master, and that he never knew from day to day when a
revolution mightn't break out in Livadia and that if it did his place
would be at the head of his people.  Of course coming from Peter it
was all the silliest sort of poppycock, and any one who wasn't a born
idiot could have seen that he was keeping something back.  However, I
let him think that I swallowed it all, and after a bit he lugged out
this paper and explained what it was.  He said that if by any chance
he was called away to Livadia quite suddenly, the first thing he
should do, as soon as it was possible, would be to send for me.  He
wanted me to promise that no matter what had happened I would come
out right away.  I saw that he was in dead earnest and frightfully
excited about it, so of course I said I would, and that seemed to
quiet him down.  Anyhow, he didn't talk any more about it, but I'm as
certain as I am that I'm sitting here that something's going to
happen, Tony, and damn soon too.  You see I know Peter so jolly well."

"It looks precious like it," agreed Tony thoughtfully.  "I shouldn't
wonder if Da Preitas had changed his plans.  Perhaps the battle of
Latimer Lane has shaken his nerve, and he means to cut out the Isabel
part of the programme and go straight ahead."

"The battle of what?" demanded Molly.

"Oh, I forgot you didn't know about it," said Tony.  "We have been
having all sorts of quiet fun of our own up at Hampstead."  He paused
for a moment to light himself a cigarette.  "There's Jimmy's letter
too," he added; "only I think I had better begin by telling you about
the battle.  There's nothing like doing things in their proper order:
it's the secret of all real success in life."

"Drive ahead," said Molly encouragingly.

Tony, who by this time was becoming quite an adept in the narrative,
again described the spirited little scuffle outside Mrs. Spalding's
house, and the subsequent transference of Isabel to the more peaceful
atmosphere of Chester Square.  He wound up with a brief account of
how Lady Jocelyn had been fully taken into their confidence, and of
how they had decided on an immediate trip to South America as the
most promising solution to the problem.

"I suppose you're right," observed Molly after a meditative pause.
"If she stops in London that pig Da Freitas will get hold of her
sooner or later, but I'm awfully sorry you're going, Tony.  There is
no one else that I can even talk to about things."

"I shan't be away so very long," said Tony comfortingly; "and it's
much the best thing for you as well as for us.  Even if they go ahead
with the revolution, Peter isn't likely to marry any one else at
present.  There would be all sorts of international ructions if he
tried to get a wife from another country, and anyway I shouldn't
think the throne of Livadia was a very dazzling prospect for a
foreign princess.  At least, not according to what Jimmy says."

"What _does_ he say?" asked Molly.  "Can I see the letter?"

Tony gave it her and, spreading it out on her knee she bent forward
and read it through carefully, her nicely pencilled eyebrows drawn
together in a thoughtful frown.

"It's some letter," she observed, when she had finished, "but I don't
think it gets us much further, does it?  I know the Livadians must be
a set of prize chumps or they wouldn't want Peter to be their king."
She folded up the sheet of paper and handed it back to him.  "I
should like to meet Jimmy some day.  He sounds all right."

"He's a dear fellow," said Tony, putting back the letter in his
pocket.  "In a way I like him better than any one except myself."  He
got up from the sofa.  "I shall come and see you again before we go,
Molly," he added.  "I don't think there is any chance of our sailing
before next Tuesday.  Aunt Fanny has got to invent a lie that will
satisfy the Dean of Ballingford, and that can't be done in a hurry."

"Righto," replied Molly; "and let me know at once if anything
happens, or if there's anything I can do to help you.  You know I
don't care a rap about the theatre: I would chuck it like a shot if
it was really necessary."

Tony took her hands.  "You're the best sportsman in London, Molly,"
he said, "and it's a thousand pities you can't be Queen of Livadia.
You'd make a Hell of a good job of it."

Molly laughed and shrugged her shoulders.  "You bet I should," she
said crisply.  "One can't be six years in musical comedy without
learning how to treat rotters."




CHAPTER XVI

AN ARTISTIC FORGERY

Spalding drew back the curtains with that slightly sacerdotal gravity
that distinguished all his professional actions, and then turned
towards Tony.

"Mr. Oliver asked me to inform you, sir, that he will not be having
breakfast with you.  He has to leave the house early on business."

Tony arranged himself more comfortably amongst the pillows.  "In that
case, Spalding," he said, "I think I shall break my good resolutions,
and have a cup of tea up here.  I can't face the _Times_ and a
poached egg single-handed."

"Very good, sir," observed Spalding, and retiring deftly to the lower
regions, he returned in a few minutes with a tray containing the
desired refreshment, a couple of letters, and a copy of the
_Sportsman_.

Tony took a sip of the tea, lighted himself a cigarette from the big
silver box beside his bed, and then proceeded to investigate his
correspondence.

The first letter was of a philanthropic character.  It was from a
gentleman named Douglas Gordon, apparently of Scottish extraction,
offering to lend him any sum from £1,000 to £50,000 on his note of
hand alone.  Laying it one side he picked up the other, which was
addressed in a solid, straightforward handwriting that he recognized
immediately as that of his skipper--Captain Simmons of the _Betty_.
Having as yet had no communication from the yacht, except for a wire
in reply to his, Tony opened it with some interest.

It ran as follows:


  May 7th,
    S. Y. _Betty_,
      SOUTHAMPTON.

DEAR SIR ANTONY CONWAY:

On receipt of your telegram I sent off a reply informing you that we
could be ready for sea any day after Thursday next.  I trust this
duly came to hand, and that it will not be inconvenient to you to
wait until the date in question.  Not expecting that you would be
needing the _Betty_ for some weeks I had given instructions for one
or two small jobs to be done in the engine-room, and the same were in
hand at the time of writing.

In connection with this something rather curious has happened, which
I feel it my duty to bring to your notice.  Two days ago a gentleman
came on board and asked to see me.  He informed me that his name was
Hemmingway, and that he was a friend of yours.  He presented one of
your cards with instructions written across it, apparently in your
handwriting, that he was to be allowed to look over the yacht.

I showed him round, but in the middle of this I was called away to
speak with the harbour-master with reference to our moorings.  While
I was engaged he continued his inspection of the vessel, visiting the
engine-room, which at that time was unoccupied.  One of the crew saw
him go in, but knowing that I had been showing him over the ship,
didn't attach any importance to the matter.

Later on, after he had gone ashore, Mr. McEwen discovered, almost by
chance, that an attempt had apparently been made to tamper with the
engines.  Without going into details I may say that if they had been
started as they were, the damage would probably have been bad enough
to keep us in port for at least an extra week.

I have gone fully into the matter, and it seems impossible that any
one else could have been responsible except this gentleman.  I
thought therefore you ought to hear about it.

I can only suppose that knowing nothing of marine engines he was
under the impression that he was performing some sort of a practical
joke.  If so, and you will excuse my saying so, it seems to me to
have been an uncommon stupid and dangerous one.  I don't suppose he
realizes what would have happened to him if Mr. McEwen or the second
engineer had happened to catch him in the act.  I fancy he wouldn't
have wanted to be funny with any more engines--not this side of the
grave.

Everything is now ready for sea, or will be by the date I gave you.
The necessary stores are coming on board, and some extra cases have
arrived from Harrod's and Fortnum and Mason's, which I suppose you
have ordered yourself in London.

Hoping that you are keeping well, and with my respectful regards to
yourself and Mr. Oliver,

  I have the honour to remain,
          Yours truly,
            JOHN SIMMONS.


Tony laid down the letter on the bed, took a thoughtful pull or two
at his cigarette, and then, reaching up, pressed the electric bell,
which was answered almost immediately by Spalding.

"Has Mr. Oliver gone out yet?" he inquired.

"He left the house a minute or two ago, Sir Antony.  I could perhaps
overtake him if you wished it."

Tony shook his head.  "You had better not try, Spalding," he said.
"You might drop dead from heart disease, and that would be very
inconvenient."

"Quite so, sir," assented Spalding gravely.

"You can turn on my bath instead," observed Tony.  "I have to go to
Southampton."  He threw back the bed-clothes and prepared to get out.
"You might tell Bugg and Jennings that I shall want to see them as
soon as I am dressed," he added.

Gathering up the tray, Spalding departed on his errand, and in a
surprisingly short time for him Tony had completed his toilet, and
was descending the staircase.  As he reached the hall the door at the
back opened, and Bugg appeared on the threshold.  He came forward in
that noiseless fashion which had won him his famous soubriquet.

"Mornin', Sir Ant'ny.  Mr. Spalding says as you wanted to see me."

"That's right, Bugg," said Tony.  "Are you a good sailor?"

"I dunno, sir," observed "Tiger" simply.  "I ain't never tried--'cept
once at the Welsh 'Arp."

"I am told that it can be very rough there at times," said Tony.  He
paused, and looked thoughtfully at his devoted henchman.  "How would
you like to come to South America on the _Betty_?" he inquired.

Bugg's blue eyes lit up.  "Not 'arf, sir."

"Do you know where it is?"

Bugg nodded.  "Yes, sir.  Where they gets the cocoanuts."

"That's right," said Tony.  "Well, we are going next week, at least I
hope so.  Just four of us.  Lady Jocelyn, Miss Francis, Mr. Oliver
and myself.  There's plenty of room on board for you.  Bring a set of
gloves, and we can have some sparring on the way over.  It's just
possible we might be able to fix up a match in Buenos Ayres and pay
the expenses of the trip.  I believe there are some very rash people
there, and they seem to have plenty of money."

Bugg went off, beaming with satisfaction, and leaving the house, Tony
made his way up to the garage, where he found Jennings surrounded by
various portions of the Hispano's interior.  It was an exceptional
morning when Jennings did not partially dismantle one or other of his
charges.

"It had better be the Rolls, sir," he observed gloomily, on learning
that Tony desired to go to Southampton.  "Both the others are pulling
something sickening.  D'you want me to come too, sir?"

"I think it would cheer me up," said Tony.  "Besides, wouldn't you
like to see the yacht?"

"Just as you please, sir," observed Jennings indifferently.  "I don't
take much stock in boats meself.  The dry land's good enough for me."

Tony seated himself on the running-board of the Peugot, which was
also outside in the yard.  "You have a happy and contented
temperament, Jennings," he observed.  "I often envy you."

Not receiving any reply to this compliment, he leaned back against
the door of the car, and lighting another cigarette watched Jennings
gathering up the fragments of the Hispano with that cold stoicism of
one unjustly afflicted by the Fates.  He had been enjoying this
pleasant spectacle for several minutes, when a sudden sound of
footsteps attracted his attention.  A moment later Spalding emerged
into sight round the corner of the bushes and advanced to where he
was sitting.

"A gentleman has called, Sir Antony, and wishes to see you
immediately.  I told him that I would ascertain whether you were at
home."

"That was very tactful of you, Spalding," said Tony.  "Who is it?"

"Another foreign gentleman, sir.  A Mr. Congosta."

Tony got up at once.  "Oh, yes," he said, "I will see him certainly.
Where is he?"

"Not knowing the gentleman, Sir Antony, I thought it best to leave
him in the hall."

Tony nodded his approval.  "We'll be off as soon as you are ready,
Jennings," he said.  "I may stay the night, so you had better bring
your things with you."

Then, accompanied by Spalding, he made his way back down the drive,
and re-entered the front door outside which an empty taxi was ticking
away with remorseless energy.

Señor Congosta, who was seated in one of the big leather chairs
scattered about the hall, rose up at their entrance.  He bowed to
Tony, who at once came forward and greeted him with a hearty
handshake, while Spalding withdrew discreetly through the door at the
back.

"I have been expecting to see or hear from you," said Tony in his
friendliest manner.  "I have all sorts of interesting things to talk
to you about."

Congosta cast a rapid glance round the hall, as if to make certain
that they were alone.

"Her Royal Highness?" he demanded quickly.  "She is safe?"

"Safe as a church," replied Tony.  "At least she was when I rang her
up last night."

"But she is not with you.  She has gone from where she was living?"

"That's right," said Tony reassuringly.  "Da Freitas found out the
address, so I thought a change of air would be beneficial.  She is
staying with some friends of mine in Chester Square.  They are taking
excellent care of her."

A look of relief flashed into the Livadian's face.

"It is well," he said, nodding his head.  "I knew that we might trust
you."

Tony pulled up a chair.  "Sit down," he said, "and let's hear your
side of the story.  I have been dying to know what's going on behind
the scenes."

Congosta glanced swiftly at the clock on the mantelpiece.  "Many
things have happened," he replied, "but there is not much time for
telling them.  In a few minutes I must leave you again."

"Well, one can tell quite a lot in a few minutes if one talks
quickly," remarked Tony hopefully.

Congosta lowered his voice to a whisper.  "The hour has struck," he
said.  "Even now, while we stand here, the streets of Portriga may be
running in blood."

"By Jove!" said Tony with interest.  "Whose blood?"

Congosta raised his hands in an expressive gesture.  "There will be
much fighting.  All over Livadia men will die for one cause or the
other.  It will be the greatest civil war in the history of my
unhappy country."

"That's saying something too, isn't it?" observed Tony.  He paused to
offer his guest a cigar.  "How do you know all this?" he asked.
"Have you heard from Colonel Saltero?"

"Every day I have news," replied Congosta a little proudly.  "We have
friends in many places--in the post-office, among the frontier
guards, everywhere!  It is easy to send a cable of which the
government knows nothing."

"Well, what has happened--exactly?" demanded Tony.

Congosta took a long breath.  "Da Freitas has given the signal.  For
three days his followers have been making ready.  All through the
North they have been arming themselves and collecting together in the
principal towns.  It is the same with our people in the South."

"But how about the Republican government?" inquired Tony.  "Haven't
they anything to say to these happy gatherings?"

"They have said what they could," replied Congosta grimly.  "Half a
dozen of Da Freitas' agents have been seized and shot in Portriga,
and yesterday they arrested General Carmel da Silva, our chief
supporter and the richest man in Livadia.  It was with his money that
we were making our preparations."

"That's a nasty knock," said Tony sympathetically.  "What are you
going to do about it?"

"There is nothing to do," admitted Congosta with a fatalistic shrug.
"Fortunately we have a fair supply of arms and ammunition--for the
rest we must manage as best we can.  In a few days there will be many
rifles without owners in Livadia."

"And how about Pedro and Da Freitas?" demanded Tony.  "Are they
joining in the fun or are they going to sit tight at Richmond and see
what happens?"

Again Congosta glanced at the clock.  "It is because I want the
answer to that question that I must leave you.  Two days ago Da
Freitas bought or hired Lord Northfield's steam yacht, the _Vivid_.
She is lying off the Tower Bridge now, and so far as I know she is
ready to sail at any moment.  One of my men is watching her, but I
dare not trust wholly anybody but myself.  It is necessary that our
people should be informed the very moment that Da Freitas leaves
England."

"Then you think he is going?" said Tony.  "You think he has given up
the idea of getting back the Princess?"

Congosta indulged in another shrug of the shoulders.  "I cannot tell.
It may be that the revolution has come against his will--that he is
unable to control it longer.  Even in that case I do not think he
will easily give up his idea of the marriage.  It is one thing to
overthrow a government: it is another to take its place.  It's only
as the husband of Don Francisco's daughter that Southern Livadia
could ever be persuaded to acknowledge Pedro."  He paused.  "You are
quite sure that you were not followed when you took the Princess
away?"

"I am never quite sure of anything," said Tony, "especially with
people who purr and smile like Da Freitas does.  All the same I think
we managed to dodge them.  I took her a twenty-mile run in the car
first, and she has not been outside the house since she got to
Chester Square."

"You have done well," observed Congosta with a kind of stately
approval.  "Should our hopes be fulfilled your name will be honoured
for ever in Livadian history."

"That will be jolly," said Tony; and then, as Congosta gathered up
his hat from the table, he added casually: "You will let me know at
once, I suppose, if there should be any news.  I may possibly be out
of town to-night, but I shall be back in good time to-morrow.  My
cousin, Guy Oliver, will be here in any case.  You can speak to him
as freely as you would to me."

Congosta nodded; and after shaking hands again warmly in the doorway,
entered the taxi, which disappeared rapidly down the drive.

For a moment or two after his visitor had departed Tony remained
wrapped in meditation.  Then crossing the hall he pressed the
electric bell for Spalding.

"I am going to Southampton as soon as Jennings is agreeable," he
said.  "You might put some pyjamas in a bag for me and shove them in
the car."

Spalding departed on his errand, and walking thoughtfully to the
telephone, Tony asked the girl at the Exchange for Lady Jocelyn's
number.  After waiting for several minutes, he was informed by a
contemptuous voice that it was engaged, and hanging up the receiver
he sat down at an old oak writing-table which filled up one of the
bay windows.  Then, selecting a piece of paper and a pencil, he wrote
the following note to Guy.


MY DEAR GUY:

I wish you wouldn't get up at such ridiculous hours.  It's a very
unhealthy habit, and apart from that you brush all the dew off the
lawn, and leave me without any one to ask advice from.  I wanted your
advice this morning badly.

In the first place when I woke up, I got the enclosed letter from
Captain Simmons.  I don't know how it strikes you, but it looks fishy
to me--very fishy.  I have never heard of any one called Hemmingway,
and I have no recollection of writing such instructions on one of my
cards.  Of course I might have done it when I was slightly
intoxicated, but then I haven't been even slightly intoxicated for
quite a long time.  There are one or two pleasant fools among my
friends, but no one I can think of who would be quite such an idiot
as to try and break up the engines of the _Betty_.

The alternative is what you might call an ugly one--Da Freitas!  It
hardly seems possible, especially in view of my other news which I am
going to tell you in a moment, and yet who the devil else could it
be?  If he has really dropped on to our notion of taking Isabel away,
it's a serious business--so serious that I am going to motor down to
Southampton straight away and find out all I can.  Of course it isn't
the least likely that Da Freitas would have shown up in the business
himself, but I might get some useful information out of Simmons, and
anyway I can at least make certain that everything will be all right
for us on Thursday.

My other news comes from Congosta.  In spite of all the bitter and
unkind things you have said about him, he turned up here faithfully
this morning to report progress.  It was some report too.  According
to him the whole of Livadia by this time ought to be up to its ankles
in gore.  Things began to move two days ago, and although there has
been nothing in the English papers yet, the odds are that the entire
crowd of them--Royalists, Franciscans, and Republicans--are now
pleasantly and usefully occupied in slitting each other's throats.

Of course I asked him at once about Pedro and Da Freitas.  They
haven't left England yet, but it seems that they have bought Lord
Northfield's steam yacht, the _Vivid_--and a beauty she is too--and
that she is lying in the Thames ready to push off at a moment's
notice.

I admit that this doesn't look as if they could have had anything to
do with the _Betty_ affair, and yet it would a devilish odd
coincidence if anyone had tried such a trick.  Besides, who on earth
would try it?  Everybody loves me--apart from Da Freitas and Jennings.

I have told Congosta as much as I thought was good for him.  He knows
that Isabel is now in Chester Square with some friends of mine,
though I haven't given him the actual number.  He seemed so pleased
and contented I thought it was a pity to drag in anything about our
South American idea in case he didn't approve of it.  Also of course
I haven't said a word to him about Molly.  I mention this because if
anything exciting happens while I am away, I have told him to roll up
and inform you.

Jennings has just appeared outside with the car, and is scowling at
me so horribly through the window that I can't write any more.  You
might, however, ring up Aunt Fanny and Isabel as soon as you come in
and give them my love, and let them know what's happened.  I tried to
get on to them just now, but the girl at the telephone laughed me to
scorn.

Your neglected and overworked cousin,

    TONY.


Having fastened this up, with Captain Simmons' letter enclosed, Tony
handed it to Spalding with instructions that he was to give it to Guy
as soon as the latter came in.  Then getting into his coat, he
sauntered out through the porch and took his place at the wheel of
the car, Jennings settling himself sombrely in the seat alongside.

The exact length of the journey from London to Southampton is stated
by the _Motor Guide_ to be seventy-four and a half miles.  This,
however, must be due to an error of measurement on the part of the
editor, since with an hour for lunch at Basingstoke, Tony covered the
distance in three hours and fifty-two minutes, a feat which is
clearly impossible in view of the present speed limit of twenty miles
an hour.

He pulled up at that excellent hotel, the Victoria, where he engaged
a couple of rooms for the night, and with the aid of a hot bath and a
large whisky and soda, removed such portions of the roadway as had
accumulated outside and inside his person.  Then, leaving Jennings to
perform a similar service to the car, he lighted a cigar and started
off through the town in the direction of the Docks.

The _Betty_ was lying out in the Roads, some little distance from the
shore.  With her graceful lines, her snowy white paint, and her
gleaming brass-work, she presented as charming a picture as the eye
of an owner could desire to gaze upon.  Tony contemplated her with
pride for a moment or two, and then availing himself of the services
of one of the small cluster of ancient mariners, who had been
hovering interrogatively round him, he set off in a dinghy, across
the intervening stretch of water.

His advent was soon observed on board the yacht, and by the time he
arrived alongside, Captain Simmons was standing at the head of the
accommodation ladder waiting to receive him.  The skipper, a short,
square-shouldered, grey-bearded man with honest blue eyes, greeted
his employer with a blend of pleasure and concern.

"Well, I _am_ glad to see you, Sir Antony, but why ever didn't you
let me know you were coming?  I'd have had the gig ashore ready for
you."

Tony shook hands warmly with him, and then turned to greet Mr.
McEwen, the chief engineer, who came shambling up from below with a
gleam of welcome showing through a forest of red whiskers.

"I don't like having the gig waiting for me," explained Tony.  "It
always makes me feel as if I was Sir Thomas Lipton."

They remained chatting for a moment or two, and then moved off across
the deck, Tony stopping to exchange a word or two with various
members of the crew, who all saluted him with the friendly grin of
old acquaintance.  It was not often that there was a new hand on
board the _Betty_.

Captain Simmons led the way to his own cabin, where the time honoured
ceremony of drinking a toast to the ensuing season having been duly
discharged, he proceeded to add some further details to the brief
report of his preparations that he had already sent along by post.

"I think you'll find everything nice and shipshape by Thursday, Sir
Antony," he finished with a touch of self-pride.  "Not knowing
exactly where we were bound for I may have allowed a bit too much
margin on the stores, but then I wasn't expecting those packages you
sent from London."

"It's an error in the right dimension," observed Tony contentedly.
"We are thinking of going to Buenos Ayres to start with, and I always
find the Atlantic very stimulating to one's appetite."

"Buenos Ayres!" repeated the skipper with interest.  "And a very nice
run too, sir."  He turned to the chief engineer.  "Just about twenty
days out--eh, Mr. McEwen?"

The latter shifted his cigar to the corner of his mouth, and nodded
gravely.

"Aye," he remarked; "though it might have been another tale if we
hadna' found out the fule's work that veesitor friend o' yours was up
to in the engine-room, Sir Antony.'

"Ah!" said Tony: "that's one of the things I wanted to ask about.
What sort of a person was he?"

There was a moment's pause.

"What sort of a person!" repeated the skipper.  "Do you mean that you
don't know him--that you didn't give him that card?"

"I have never heard of him in my life," said Tony tranquilly.

With a strange noise, such as a tiger would probably make if somebody
trod upon his toe, Mr. McEwen turned to the skipper.

"Did I no tell ye that the mon was an impostor?" he demanded
excitedly.

Fumbling in his waistcoat pocket, Captain Simmons produced a dirty
and crumpled visiting card, which he held out to Tony.

"It's only a chance that I didn't tear it up," he observed rather
grimly.

Tony took the card which, despite its dilapidated appearance, had
every appearance of being one of his own.  He was just able to make
out the following half obliterated message scribbled across it in
pencil.


  Mr. Hemmingway is a friend of mine.
  Please allow him to look over the _Betty_.
                                          A.C.


"I don't wonder it took you in," he said, with a tinge of admiration.
"It's a most artistic forgery."

Mr. McEwen drew a deep breath.  "My God!" he said softly; "I'm
wishing I'd found him in the engine-room.  I'd have broken him in
twa."

"It's a pity you didn't," said Tony.  "I should probably have been
able to recognize one or other of the bits."  He turned to Captain
Simmons.  "What was he like, and what did he do--exactly?"

The skipper, who was a man of slow speech, pondered for a moment
before replying.

"He was right enough to look at in a way--well dressed and all that
sort of thing.  A youngish, darkish sort of fellow--might have had a
touch of the Dago about him, but he spoke English as well as you or
me.  As for what he did--well, Mr. McEwen can tell you that best."

"I'd had the head off one o' the cylinders," burst out the Scotchman,
"an' there she was put back in her place, but no screwed down.  What
did the black-hearted Jezebel do, but drop in a spanner, a nine-inch
steel spanner that would ha' jarred the head o' the cylinder to
Gehenna if so be we'd screwed her doon wi'oot takin' a look inside."

"Have you any idea who he was, Sir Antony?" inquired the skipper
anxiously.

"I think I know where he came from," replied Tony.  He got up from
his seat, and for a moment or two stared thoughtfully out of the
skipper's port-hole.

It seemed evident beyond doubt that the mysterious "Mr. Hemmingway"
could have been none other than an agent of Da Freitas, and for the
first time since he had light-heartedly entered upon his adventure
Tony felt a sudden slight sense of misgiving.  There was a touch
about this latest effort of the Marquis that suggested unpleasant
depths of knowledge and resource on that gentleman's part.  It seemed
hardly probable that he would have instigated an attempt upon the
_Betty's_ engines, unless he had a very shrewd idea of the use to
which that vessel was shortly to be put.  If this were so, the
situation was some way from being as simple and safe as it had
previously appeared, and with a sudden determination Tony resolved to
take his companions into his confidence.

"I think you ought to know the facts of the case--both of you," he
said.  "It's quite on the cards I might be running you into trouble
or even danger, and I don't think we included that in our agreements,
did we?"

The skipper stroked his beard.  "One can't include everything," he
remarked; "eh, Mr. McEwen?"

"I'm no sayin' I've any great objection to eether," observed the
latter cautiously; "not in good company."

"Well, you shall hear," said Tony; "and then you can judge for
yourselves."

In as few words as possible he gave them a brief outline of the
situation, starting from his original meeting with Isabel in Long
Acre, and bringing the story down to Congosta's visit to Hampstead
that morning.  As a convincing narrative it gained rather than lost
by this compression, for the mere facts, however crudely stated, had
a dramatic grip about them that needed no embellishment or
elaboration.

Both the skipper and Mr. McEwen listened to him with silent
attention.  It was a story which any one might have been pardoned for
receiving with a certain amount of surprise or even incredulity, but
neither of their faces showed any trace of their natural emotions.
On the contrary they appeared to accept the entire narrative as
though it were the sort of thing that might reasonably be expected to
happen to any yacht owner of average experience.

It was Mr. McEwen who was the first to break the ensuing silence.

"I'm thinkin' that ye've done a guid act," he said gravely.  "'Tis no
business for a young lassie to be stuck up on a throne over a parcel
o' murderin' Dagoes."

Captain Simmons nodded his assent.  "You can rest your mind easy
about the yacht, Sir Antony.  There'll be no one else come on
board--not till you arrive yourself."

"How about the crew?" suggested Tony.  "Ought they to be told
anything?"

"I'm inclined to think it would be injudeecious," put in Mr. McEwen.
"Not that they would be makin' any deeficulties--they would gae to
Hell to oblige you, Sir Antony--but mebbe 'twould gie 'em a sense o'
their own importance that's no desirable in a crew.  What do you say,
Captain Simmons?"

Again the skipper nodded.

"Well, that all seems satisfactory enough," observed Tony cheerfully.
"I am sure I am very much obliged to you both."  He poured himself
out another drink and lifted the glass.  "Here's to the voyage," he
said, "and may every owner have as sporting a lot of officers as I've
got."

"Here's to the voyage, sir," said Captain Simmons, following his
example, "and proud and glad to be of any assistance to you."

Very gravely Mr. McEwen reached for the whisky bottle.  "Here's to
the voyage, gentlemen," he repeated, "and God send that we meet the
mon who put that spanner in my cylinder."

* * * * * * *

It was close on eight o'clock by the time Tony returned to the hotel.
He had some dinner in the big, sparsely populated restaurant, and
then sending out a message by the waiter to Jennings, invited that
sunny-souled mechanic to come up and play him a game of snooker in
the billiard-room.

With the exception of backing losers, snooker was Jennings' only
human weakness, and on occasions when he and Tony were away together
at a hotel he would so far relax his dignity as to oblige his
employer in this unprofessional fashion.  They played two games, both
of which Jennings won--a circumstance which caused him so much
satisfaction that he received Tony's instructions to have the car
ready at eleven the next morning with what only just escaped being an
amiable bow.

Despite the somewhat disquieting manner in which his suspicions about
the attempt on the _Betty_ had been confirmed, Tony managed to pass a
very comfortable night.  He dressed himself leisurely in the morning
and strolled down to the dining-room about ten o'clock, where he
instructed the waiter to bring him some China tea and a grilled sole.

A copy of the _Daily Mail_ was lying on the table beside his plate,
and in the casual fashion of one who is waiting for breakfast he
opened it out in front of him at the centre page.  As he did so a
series of bold, heavily-leaded headlines leaped into view that
brought an involuntary exclamation from his lips.

  REVOLUTION IN LIVADIA

  FIERCE FIGHTING AT PORTRIGA

  REPORTED FLIGHT OF PRESIDENT


In a second the grilled sole and everything else had vanished out of
his mind and he was eagerly scanning the following announcement.


By a cable from Paris received shortly before going to press, we
learn that yesterday evening a revolution broke out in Livadia, which
appears already to have attained wide-spread proportions.  So far,
information is scanty, for the telegraph wires over the frontier have
been cut, and the cable station at Portriga is in the hands of one or
other of the belligerents.

It appears, however, that the revolt started simultaneously in the
neighbourhood of Vanessa and also in the Capital.  At both places the
Royal Standard was raised by a strong party of King Pedro's
adherents, and in both instances the Republican government seem to
have been taken more or less by surprise.  Vanessa is said to be
entirely in the hands of the Royalists, who have also succeeded in
occupying the greater part of Portriga.

The situation is complicated by another revolt in the South, where
the partisans of the late Don Francisco, the Pretender, have also
seized the opportunity to assert their claims.  A strong force, under
the leadership of General Almaida, is reported to be marching on the
Capital, where the Republicans and the Royalists are still engaged in
bitter and sanguinary street fighting.  It is rumoured that the
President has already left the country.

From inquiries at Richmond we learn that King Pedro and the Marquis
da Freitas are still in England, but in response to numerous
invitations they have so far declined to issue any statement to the
Press.

All further details available will be found in the first edition of
_The Evening News_.


Having read this interesting announcement through slowly and
carefully, Tony laid down the paper and sat back in his chair.

So Congosta had been right!  Underneath all the rather penny coloured
plotting and cheap melodrama that had surrounded Isabel's story, a
savagely real piece of European history had been silently coming to
fruition.  He had never doubted the fact himself, but somehow or
other those flaming head-lines in the _Mail_ suddenly brought it home
to him with a vivid reality that had hitherto been wanting.  It was
as if the buttons had come off the foils, and what had hitherto been
an entertaining fencing match had turned abruptly into a thrilling
and dangerous duel.

With a pleasing sense of elation he drew up his chair, and prepared
to face the grilled sole that the waiter was just bringing in.

"You might tell my chauffeur," he said, "that we will start back at
half-past ten instead of eleven."

The waiter went out with the message, but a couple of minutes had
hardly elapsed before he came back into the room bearing a telegram
upon a small tray.

"If you please, sir," he said, "one of the sailors from your yacht
has called with this.  He is waiting in the hall in case you want
him."

With a certain feeling of surprise Tony laid down his knife and fork,
and slitting open the buff-coloured envelope, pulled out its contents.

They were brief and distinctly to the point.


Isabel has disappeared; fear the worst; come back immediately.  GUY.




CHAPTER XVII

A DECOY MESSAGE

Guy must have heard the car turning in at the drive, for as they drew
up in front of the house, he flung open the door and stepped out to
meet them.  He looked white and haggard in the bright morning
sunshine.

"You got my wire?" was his first remark.

Tony, who was at the wheel, nodded his head, and climbed stiffly out
of his seat.  Hardened as he was to rapid driving, he felt something
like a momentary reaction now that the return journey had been
accomplished without disaster.

"Come into the house, Guy," he said.  "You look like an advertisement
for Sanatogen."

They entered the hall, where Tony took off his coat and threw it
across the back of one of the chairs.

"Now," he said.  "Tell me all about it."

"Da Freitas has got hold of Isabel," said Guy, making an effort to
speak quietly.  "She left Chester Square at nine o'clock this
morning, and we have heard nothing of her since."

There was a brief pause.

"Go on," said Tony.  "How did it happen?"

"It was my fault," answered Guy with a sort of harsh bitterness, "at
least very largely it was.  I spent practically all yesterday with
Debenham trying to fix up about the Stanley estate.  It was
absolutely necessary to get the thing settled before we left England.
Finally I went back to dinner at his house, and I didn't get home
here till nearly one-o'clock.  Spalding had left your letter in my
bedroom, but somehow or other--I was tired out and half asleep I
suppose--I managed to overlook it, I had left instructions I wasn't
to be waked up till nine o'clock this morning, and when Spalding came
to call me, there was your letter on the dressing-table."

He paused.

"Directly I had read it I went down-stairs and rang up Chester
Square.  The housemaid answered the telephone, and said that Isabel
had just left the house, and that Aunt Fanny was still in bed.  When
I asked if Isabel had mentioned any reason for going out so early,
she said that Spalding had rung up a quarter of an hour before and
said that you wanted Miss Francis to come over here in a taxi as soon
as possible.  Well, of course, I guessed there was something wrong at
once.  I sent for Spalding, and as I expected, he told me that he
hadn't been near the telephone all the morning.  I was getting really
frightened now, so I told the girl to put me through to Aunt Fanny,
who has got another receiver in her bedroom.  Then it all came out.
Somebody, who pretended to be Spalding, had rung up at about twenty
to nine and asked for Isabel.  He had said you wanted her here, and
that she was to take a taxi along as soon as she could manage it.
Isabel evidently hadn't the faintest suspicion that it wasn't all
right.  Aunt Fanny was asleep at the time, and she wouldn't allow her
to be waked up.  She had just put on her hat and got into a taxi that
was waiting a little way down the Square, and that's the very last
that any of us have heard of her."  Guy's voice shook, but with an
effort he managed to control it.  "They've got her, Tony," he added
despairingly.  "I would have given my right hand to have stopped it,
but what's the good now?  They've got her, and we shall never see her
again."

Tony laid his hand on his cousin's shoulder.  "My dear old Guy," he
said quietly: "it wasn't your fault.  If any one has been to blame,
it's me."  He took a couple of turns across the room and came back to
where Guy was standing.  "Hang it," he said ruefully.  "I had no idea
I was so fond of Isabel."

Guy looked up at him with a rather twisted smile.  "I knew you would
find it out eventually, Tony," he said.  "It's a pity it's happened
too late."

"Too late be damned," observed Tony calmly.  "Even if Da Freitas has
got hold of her, do you imagine I am going to let him keep her?  I
know now that I want Isabel more than anything else in the world.  I
have always been accustomed to have what I want, and it's a very bad
thing to change one's habits suddenly at my age."

Guy made a kind of hopeless gesture with his hands.  "But what can
you do?" he demanded.  "You have seen the papers this morning--you
know what's happening in Livadia?  The odds are they will take her
straight over there and marry her to Pedro right away."

"Then I shall go over and fetch her back," replied Tony firmly.  "I
am not going to allow any silly old-fashioned ideas about the
sanctity of marriage to interfere with my life's happiness."

Guy opened his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly interrupted by the
grinding scrunch of a second motor pulling up abruptly outside the
house.  Almost at the same moment the bell rang with a prolonged
violence that echoed up from the basement.

"I rather think that must be Congosta," said Tony.

He crossed the hall, and pulling back the latch, opened the front
door.

The visitor was Señor Congosta, but his most intimate friends might
have been pardoned if for a moment they had failed to recognize him.
Hatless, dishevelled, and with a long smear of blood at the corner of
his mouth, he looked as if he had been taking part in a rather
closely contested Irish election.

"So!" he observed, drawing himself up and glaring at Tony, "you have
betrayed me."

Tony stepped towards him.

"Don't be silly," he said.  "Come along in and sit down."

He thrust his arm through the Livadian's, and before the latter could
protest he had brought him to a chair and practically pushed him into
it.  "You had better have a drink right away," he added.  "You look
done to the world.  Get the whisky, will you, Guy?"

Guy started off to do as he was asked, and before the disgruntled
Señor had properly recovered himself Tony turned back to him with a
disarming smile.

"Sorry to have been so snappy," he said.  "I suppose you have just
found out about Isabel, and of course you would think we were
scoundrels--naturally."

With an effort Congosta managed to regain his power of speech.

"You know what has happened?" he demanded hoarsely.  "You know where
she is?"

"I have just heard that she was decoyed away from Chester Square by a
false telephone message at nine o'clock this morning.  For the moment
I have no idea where she is.  If I had I shouldn't be sitting here."

"Then you shall know!" gripping the arm of the chair, Congosta bent
forward towards him.  "She is a drugged and helpless prisoner on the
_Vivid_.  By now she is half-way down the Thames on her way to
Livadia."

There was a second's pause, and then Guy reappeared from the
dining-room with the whisky and soda.

"Do you hear that, Guy?" said Tony.  "Señor Congosta says that Isabel
is on board the _Vivid_, and that they have already started for
Livadia."

Guy came up and put down the tray he was carrying.

"I knew it," he said hopelessly.  "We shall never see her
again--never."

"And whose fault is that?" demanded Congosta, striking the arm of the
chair with his fist.  "Did you not promise me that she should be
safe?  Did I not leave the honour of my country in your hands?"

"You did," said Tony, "and we have let you down with a bump."

He splashed some whisky and soda into a glass and held it out to the
Livadian, who sat there glowering at them both with angry suspicion.

"Come, Señor," he added persuasively, "drink that up and you'll feel
better.  Whatever else we do, it's no good quarrelling amongst
ourselves."

Congosta, who really did appear to be badly in need of it, gulped off
a couple of mouthfuls of the stimulant, and set down the tumbler.

"Now listen to me," said Tony, speaking very slowly and quietly.  "I
admit that things look queer and I admit that you have every right to
feel suspicious.  But there has been no treachery.  You can get that
idea out of your head right away.  I moved Isabel to Chester Square
because I thought it was the safest place she could be in.  We took
every precaution, and I haven't the faintest motion how Da Freitas
found out her address.  It has been just as big a smack in the eye to
us as it is to you."

Either the drink or else Tony's unwonted earnestness evidently
brought some sort of conviction to the visitor.  Once again his
shattered faith in the British aristocracy seemed slowly to revive,
and rising to his feet, he bowed stiffly to his two companions.

"Gentlemen!" he said.  "I spoke hastily.  I ask your pardon."

"If there is any apologizing to be done," said Tony, "it's up to me.
I have underrated Da Freitas all through in the most fatuous way--and
this is the result!"

Congosta reseated himself.

"Please tell me exactly what happened this morning," he said.

"Somebody rang up the house in Chester Square and pretended to be my
butler," answered Tony.  "He said that I wanted Isabel to come here
at once in a taxi.  Unfortunately the lady she is staying with was
still asleep, and instead of waking her up and asking her advice,
Isabel seems to have gone straight outside and got into a taxi that
was waiting in the Square.  That's the last we have heard of her."

Congosta nodded.  "I can give you the rest of the story," he said.
"For three days I have rented a little room close to an empty
warehouse opposite to where the _Vivid_ was lying.  There is a wharf
just below where any one would start from if he wished to reach the
vessel.  Always there is someone in that room--I or another--watching
and waiting.  Last night, late and in the dark, a cart came down with
luggage and packages.  They took them on board, and I knew then that
Da Freitas' plans were ready.  Very early this morning they began to
get up steam on the yacht.  I stayed there, watching from the window,
and at ten o'clock a boat put off with four men in it.  They were all
Livadians--one I knew well by sight.  I had seen him at Richmond with
Da Freitas.  When they got to the wharf, they came ashore and
fastened up the boat.  They were evidently expecting someone, because
two of them took it in turns to watch, while the others went across
the roadway to drink."

Congosta paused, and taking out his handkerchief pressed it against
his lip.

"Just before midday," he went on, "a big closed car came quickly
along the lane and pulled up at the wharf.  There was no one about at
the moment except the four sailors.  I saw Pedro open the door and
get out, and then almost before I could realize what was happening
there was my Royal mistress, drugged, helpless, hardly able to
stand--with the Count on one side of her and Da Freitas on the other."

He stopped again and took in a long breath.

"I think for a little while I was mad.  It would have been better,
far better, if I had not shown myself.  Then I could have got away
quickly and something might still have been arranged.  But for the
moment I was so full of rage and disappointment that I did not know
what I was doing.  I only remember running downstairs--my mind made
up that I would kill Da Freitas.  Then I was amongst them; and had it
been any one else my knife would have been in his heart before they
could have stopped me.  But I think that black, smiling devil cannot
be surprised.  Even as I flung myself at him, he dragged the Princess
in front of him, and I could not strike for the fear that I might
hurt her.  Then in a moment I was beaten to the ground.  I fought
bravely--splendidly, but what could I do against six men?  I must
have been stunned by the blow on the head from behind, for I remember
nothing more until I came to my senses again in the small wide shop
across the street.  Someone had found me lying on the wharf, and they
had carried me in there thinking that I was dead."

Once more he stopped, and reaching out a rather shaky hand for the
tumbler finished off the whisky and soda.

"Are you badly hurt?" asked Guy, who had been listening to the
narrative with a mixture of amazement and concern.

Congosta put his hand to his forehead.  "It is nothing serious.  Only
my head aches very much.  I think they would have killed me if it had
not been for my hat."

"Let's have a look," said Tony.  "I know a little about cracked
skulls."

He came round to where Congosta was sitting, and bending over the
latter's chair, very carefully parted the hair at a place where it
was matted with congealed blood.

"It's a nasty bump," he said sympathetically; "but I don't think
there is any real damage done.  You must have a very good hatter."

"Shall I fetch some hot water and bathe it for you?" suggested Guy,
getting up from his seat.

Congosta raised his hand protestingly.  "It will wait," he said with
a certain grimness.  "What we are speaking of will not."

Tony seated himself on the arm of the opposite chair.  "Go on," he
said.  "What happened when you came round?"

"For a little while," continued Congosta, "I could remember nothing.
Then suddenly it all came back to me, and somehow the shock seemed to
make me strong again.  The people in the wine shop wished to send for
the police, but I would not let them.  Instead I paid them to get me
a taxi.  I had made up my mind that first I would come to you, and
that I would find out the truth.  I could see from the window that
the yacht had already moved from her moorings, and I knew that it was
now too late for anything except to warn my friends in Livadia.
That--and to be revenged upon you, if you had betrayed me."

There was a pause.

"It's horrible to be so helpless," said Guy with a sort of groan.
"Is there nothing that we can do?  I suppose there would be no chance
of getting them held up for an hour or two at Southend?"

"What for?" asked Tony languidly.

"There's--there's this assault upon Señor Congosta."

The latter shook his head.  "It would be useless," he said.  "I know
well that your government will be only too pleased that they have
gone.  The police would not be allowed to interfere even if they
wished to."

"But we must do something," exclaimed Guy almost fiercely.

Tony got up from his seat.  "I know what I'm going to do," he said.
"I am going to follow them to Livadia."

For an instant both of them stared at him without speaking.

"But how do you expect to get there?" demanded Congosta
incredulously.  "The steamers from England are stopped, and all the
frontier is in the hands of Da Freitas' soldiers.  No one will be
allowed to enter the country until the Revolution is over."

"That doesn't matter to me," said Tony.  "I have a private yacht of
my own."

The news seemed to produce a remarkable effect upon Congosta.

"A private yacht!" he repeated, rising abruptly to his feet.  "And
you mean what you say?  You mean that you will sail for Portriga
now--immediately--at once?"

"Well, say to-morrow morning," suggested Tony.  "That will give us
time to get on board first."

By now all Congosta's headache and exhaustion seemed magically to
have vanished.

"My friend!" he ejaculated fervently, "my dear Sir Antony!  You may
yet be of the truest service to my unhappy country."

"But look here!" broke in Guy, who had also risen from his chair and
was gazing from one to the other of them.  "This is all very well,
but what on earth's the use of it?  Even if we got to Portriga you
don't suppose we should have the faintest chance of being able to do
anything!"

"I don't like looking too far ahead," said Tony.  "It shows a lack of
trust in Providence."

Congosta wheeled round excitedly to Guy.  "Señor!" he exclaimed.  "I
assure you that you may yet save Livadia."  He turned back to Tony.
"You have seen this morning's paper?  You know the truth about what
has happened?"

"I have seen the _Daily Mail_," said Tony guardedly.

"So!  That is right, what they have written, but there is later
news."  He thrust his hand into his breast pocket, and dragging out
some papers, selected a crumpled cable form, which he opened with
shaking fingers.  "Even now General Almaida is in Portriga.  He holds
the whole town south of the river."

"Do you mean that you're in communication with them?" demanded Guy.
"I thought all the wires had been cut."

"We were not without our preparations," returned Congosta with a
vindictive smile.  "The way is still open.  It will not be closed so
long as General Almaida is undefeated."

"And how long is that likely to be?" asked Tony.

Congosta drew himself up.

"Señor!" he replied dramatically.  "It rests with you."

There was a short pause.

"Well?" said Tony encouragingly.

"There are two things in which our brave army is lacking--ammunition
and money.  If we can help them with these----"

Tony nodded.  "What's the idea--exactly?" he asked.

Congosta took a step forward, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.
He began to speak in a low, rapid voice.

"A week ago, by the instructions of General Almaida, I gave an order
to one of your English houses for a supply of cartridges.  The money
was to have been sent to me, and we had arranged a plan for getting
them safely across.  Had the revolution not broken out they would now
be on their way.  As it is--!" he made a quick expressive gesture
with his hands--"The money has not come, and even if I could pay
there is no vessel that could take them to Livadia."

He paused for breath.

"We haven't a cargo license for the _Betty_," said Tony, "but I don't
know that it really matters."

Congosta came nearer still.  "You will do it," he gasped.  "You will
lend us this money?  You will take the cartridges on your yacht?"

Tony nodded again.  "Why, of course," he said.  "It's the least I can
do after losing Isabel in that careless fashion."

With an exclamation of joy Congosta seized hold of his hand, and
commenced wringing it violently up and down.

"My friend," he exclaimed with tears in his eyes.  "How can I ever
thank you?"

"But Good Heavens!" interrupted Guy, drawing in his breath.  "Do you
realize what this means?
It's--it's--filibustering--piracy--buccaneering----"

"Is it?" said Tony--"what fun!  I have always wanted to be a
buccaneer ever since I was thirteen."  He disentangled himself with
some difficulty from the clutches of Congosta.  "Don't worry, Guy,"
he added, "you needn't be mixed up with it in any way."

"What!"  For a moment Guy's indignation rendered him almost
speechless.  "Do you suppose I am thinking of myself?  Do you imagine
I shall desert you--now--at this time?"

"There is not the danger that the Señor fancies," broke in Congosta
with a kind of feverish eagerness.  "Listen!  I will explain!"  He
turned to Tony.  "You have heard of Braxa?"

"I don't think so," said Tony regretfully.  "You see I was educated
at Eton."

"It is a fishing village--a small fishing village and harbour twenty
miles south of Portriga.  The people there are different from most of
my countrymen.  They are all fishermen, and they do not concern
themselves much with politics."

"It sounds just the sort of quiet and sensible place one would like
to visit," observed Tony.

"So!  You understand what I mean!"  Congosta's excitement became
almost painful to witness.  "You are on a voyage of pleasure!  You
come into the harbour in your yacht.  My people will be expecting
you.  In an hour the cartridges will be on shore, and then--" he
paused and the same vindictive smile gathered in his eyes, "there may
yet be a little hitch in the clever plans of the Marquis da Freitas."

"It's a great idea," said Tony admiringly.  "So simple and safe!  Why
we needn't even land if we don't want to."

"But what would be the good?" began Guy.

He got no further, for he suddenly caught sight of his cousin's face,
as the latter looked round at him, and its expression dried up the
question that he was about to utter.

"These cartridges," inquired Tony, turning back to Congosta with his
previously serene air.  "How long do you think it would take to get
them to Southampton?"

"There need be no delay," replied the Livadian.  "It is only a
question of the money.  As soon as they are paid for I can arrange
for them to be sent down on motor lorry.  They would go to-night."

Tony nodded approvingly.  "And how about your message to Livadia?  It
won't be an easy thing to explain.  None of your people have ever
heard of me except Colonel Saltero, and I don't think I impressed him
very favourably."

Congosta dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand.

"You may leave that to me," he said.  "I assure you that before he
left England Colonel Saltero was convinced of your good faith.  I
shall arrange that it is he who will meet you at Braxa to receive the
cartridges."

"But won't you be coming with us?" asked Guy.

Congosta shook his head.  "I must stay in London," he answered
regretfully.  "It is General Almaida's wish.  Should our party win it
is necessary that there should be someone here to obtain recognition
from your government."

"Quite so," said Tony; "quite so."  He lighted himself a cigarette,
and took a couple of thoughtful paces up and down the hall.  Guy did
not speak again, but watched him with a strained apprehension that
showed itself visibly in his face.

"Tell me," said Tony, coming back to where Congosta was standing.
"Could you get a message through to any one in Portriga?"

Congosta looked faintly surprised.  "I cannot say.  It is possible.
It would depend perhaps upon what part of the town they were in."  He
paused.  "Why do you wish to know?"

"I am a little bit anxious about a friend of mine," said Tony
frankly.  "He has been running a motor company in Portriga for the
last two years, and from what he has told me I am afraid that he has
made one or two rather awkward enemies--business enemies, you know.
They are not the sort of crowd to miss a chance like this, and just
in case he was in difficulties, I should like him to know that the
_Betty_ was coming to Braxa.  Then if he wanted to slip out of the
country quietly he could."

Congosta accepted the explanation in what appeared to be perfectly
good faith.

"I understand," he said.  "You shall give me your friend's name and
address, and then if our people can reach him you may be sure that he
will get your message."

Tony walked across to the writing-table and seated himself in the
chair.

"That's good," he said cheerfully.  "One doesn't like to leave a pal
in the lurch--especially in Livadia."

He took a sheet of paper from the case in front of him, and in his
best handwriting copied out the following address.


  SEÑOR JAMES DALE,
    Garage Anglais,
      Praca D. Porto,
        Portriga.


"I think it would be simplest," he said, "if you just told him that
the _Betty_ was expected at Braxa in two days' time.  He would
probably like to see me, even if there's nothing the matter."

Congosta took the paper and glanced at its contents.

"If the thing is possible it shall be done," he repeated.

Tony put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his cheque book.

"And now let's get to work," he observed.  "I shall be pretty busy if
we are going to sail to-morrow morning, so I think I had better leave
the cartridge business entirely to you.  I will give you an open
cheque on my bank, and you can cash it on your way back."

Congosta nodded his approval.  "That will be the easiest plan," he
said.  "Then I can also make the arrangements for sending them off."

"'Steam yacht _Betty_, Southampton,' will be enough address,"
continued Tony, writing the cheque as he spoke.  "I will wire my
captain instructions to be on the lookout for them."  He blotted the
slip and handed it to Congosta.  "I don't know what they will come
to," he added; "I have made the cheque out for four thousand."

Congosta gazed with surprised awe at the little piece of pink paper
in his hand.

"Four thousand pounds?" he repeated slowly.  "But it will not be so
much as that!"

"Never mind," said Tony, getting up from his chair.  "Ask for the
rest in gold and bring it back here.  We can take it along with us.
If your people are as hard up as you say, I daresay a few English
sovereigns will come in useful.  They are a wonderfully effective
weapon with Royalists as a rule."

Congosta folded up the cheque reverently, and put it away in his
pocket.  Then he picked up his hat.

"Señor!" he exclaimed with a tremble of emotion in his voice.  "Again
I offer you the thanks of my country.  It is only in England that
such splendid generosity is possible."

"There's nothing to thank me for," said Tony cheerfully.  "It's my
own stupidity and carelessness I'm paying for--that's all."  He
accompanied Congosta across the hall and opened the front door for
him.  "We shall expect you back here some time this afternoon," he
added.

The Livadian nodded.

"I shall return as soon as I have arranged about the cartridges," he
said.  "It is best that I should not send the message until we know
for certain what time you will be able to start."

Once more he clasped Tony's hand and shook it fervently, and then,
after giving some instructions to the driver, he stepped into the
waiting taxi, and was whirled off down the drive.

Tony came back into the hall, and closed the door.  As he did so he
caught sight of a note lying at the bottom of the letter-box, and
taking it out discovered that it was addressed to himself.

"And now," broke out Guy, who had apparently been restraining himself
with difficulty; "perhaps you'll tell me if you are really in
earnest."

Tony slit open the envelope and pulled out its contents.

"Of course I'm in earnest," he answered.  "I was never so--"  He
paused abruptly, and his lips screwed themselves up into a sudden low
whistle of amused amazement.  "By Jove, Guy!" he exclaimed; "look at
this!"

He held out the sheet of note-paper, and then thrusting his hands
into his pockets, watched his cousin's face as the latter read
through the following missive.


MY DEAR SIR ANTONY CONWAY:

I much regret that I was unable to find time to say good-bye to you
before leaving England.

You have a proverb I believe in your delightful language to the
effect that he laughs loudest who laughs last.  You will now be able
to appreciate its profound truth.

  Always yours sincerely,
      DA FREITAS.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE ROYAL PASS

Guy read it through and then looked up with a sort of incredulous
bewilderment.

"When did this come?" he asked.

Tony shrugged his shoulders.  "My dear Guy--I don't know any more
about it than you do.  I suppose someone must have put it in the
letter-box while we were having our pleasant little chat with
Congosta."

"But--but--"  He stared at it again in frowning uncertainty--"Good
Heavens, Tony!" he exclaimed, "do you mean to say that Da Freitas
took the trouble and the risk of sending you this while he was
actually--?"  He broke off as if unable to complete the sentence.

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" said Tony cheerfully.  "My respect for
the Marquis increases every hour--in fact I'm beginning to feel quite
fond of him."

Guy's lips tightened into an expression of restrained exasperation.

"Look here, Tony," he began with forced calmness.  "For goodness'
sake let's get this thing quite clear.  Did you really mean what you
said to Congosta?"

Tony took back Da Freitas' note, and put it carefully in his pocket.

"I meant most of it," he replied.  "I am going down to Southampton
to-night, and I shall start for Livadia the moment the _Betty_ is
ready to sail."

Guy knew him well enough to understand that for once he was speaking
in absolute sincerity.

"You mean to fight then?  You are going to join this man--what's his
name--General Almaida?"

There was a short pause.

"Somehow or other," said Tony, "I am going to get Isabel back.  It's
no good asking me exactly how I shall do it, because at the present
moment I don't know.  The only thing I have quite made up my mind
about is that I shall either come back with her, or else I shan't
come back at all."  He looked up smilingly at Guy.  "Now you
understand what I meant when I said I didn't want to drag you into
it."

A faint flush mounted into Guy's naturally pale face.

"Do you think I am a coward, Tony?" he inquired very deliberately.

"Of course not," returned Tony.  "Any man who has a cold bath as you
do every morning must be brave.  Still that's no reason why you
should run a quite unnecessary risk of getting shot--especially as
you have disapproved of the whole business ever since the start."

"Who could help disapproving of it?" burst out Guy feelingly.  "It's
the maddest and most impossible affair in which any sane person was
ever mixed up."  He paused as if to recover himself.  "All the same,"
he added quickly, "I should like to come with you, Tony, if you think
I could be of any use."

Tony patted him approvingly on the shoulder.  "Any use!" he repeated.
"Why, my dear old Guy, I would rather have you with me than the Seven
Champions of Christendom.  I am sure you would be a lot more reliable
in a really tight corner."

"Have you got any sort of a plan at all?" inquired Guy a little
hopelessly.

"Well, I've an idea," said Tony.  "It's hardly a plan yet, but it may
be by the time I get back."

"You're going out?"

Tony nodded.  "I shan't be long, and meanwhile you can fix up the
arrangements here.  In the first place I want you to get on to
Simmons on the telephone.  You had better ring up the Grand Hotel,
Southampton, and say you're me, and ask them very prettily and nicely
if they'll send round someone to fetch him from the yacht.  Tell him
that we are coming down to-night or early to-morrow morning--you and
I and Bugg--and that he must be ready to start directly we arrive.
Say that we have changed our minds about South America and that we
are going to Braxa instead."

Guy stepped to the table and made a note of these instructions.

"Anything else?" he inquired.

"Nothing more," replied Tony.  "Just see that Spalding packs our
things, and that Jennings has the car ready--the Rolls of course.
Any spare time you have after that I should devote to making your
will."

He picked up his coat off the chair on which it was lying.

"Where are you going to?" asked Guy.

There was a short pause while Tony lighted himself a cigarette.

"I am going to a matinée," he said, "at the Gaiety Theatre."

For a moment Guy stared at him in amazement.

"A matinée!" he repeated.  "What on--"  Then suddenly light seemed to
dawn on him.  "Why, of course, that girl--Molly Monk--I had forgotten
her."  He paused.  "Do you think she can be of any help?"

Tony walked to the door.  "She might lend us a sheet of note-paper,"
he said.  "Anyhow I mean to ask her."

If there is one profession in this world more likely than the rest to
induce a certain slight cynicism with regard to human motives, it is
probably that of being stage door-keeper at the Gaiety Theatre.  When
therefore a quarter of an hour later, Tony presented his card at the
open pigeon-hole with a request that he might see Miss Monk
immediately on a matter of urgent importance, the uniformed gentleman
inside contented himself with a weary smile.

"I'll send it up, sir," he remarked, "but between ourselves it ain't
no good.  The Guv'nor don't allow visitors in the dressin' rooms--not
while the show's on."

Tony, who had been fingering a sovereign, laid it down beside the
card.

"What a pity!" he replied thoughtfully.

At the sight of the gold piece the janitor's world hardened face lit
up with an expression that was almost beautiful.

"I'll take it up meself, sir," he observed hastily, climbing down
from his stool.  "Of course if it's a matter o' urgent importance--"
He emerged from his rabbit hutch, card in hand, and pushing open a
swing-door disappeared from view up a winding flight of stairs.

After a decent interval he returned with the air of one who has
triumphed over great odds.

"S'orl right," he remarked in a confidential whisper.  "She's orf
now, sir.  You foller me, sir."

He conducted Tony up the stairs, to the first landing, where he
tapped cautiously on the second door he came to.  It was opened at
once by a secretive looking lady, who appeared to be lunching on
pins, and at the same moment Molly's voice remarked with its usual
pleasant distinctness: "If that's you, Tony, come along in."

Complying with the request Tony found himself in a small, brightly
lit apartment, the principal furniture of which appeared to be a vast
mirror, a long narrow dressing-table, a comfortable easy-chair, and
an inspiriting collection of foamy undergarments, suspended from a
row of pegs.

In the chair sat Molly.  She was dressed in the simple and practical
costume of a milkmaid, as visualized by producers of musical comedy.
It consisted of a charmingly décolletté creation of white muslin and
blue ribbon, completed by a large "baby" hat, a skirt that just
reached her knees, white silk stockings and high-heeled shoes.

"Oh, Tony!" she exclaimed; "thank goodness you've come."  Then
turning to the dresser she added kindly: "You can shove off, Jane.  I
want to talk to him alone."

Acting on the hint the lady of the pins withdrew from the room, and
hardly waiting until the door had closed behind her, Molly jumped up
from the chair.

"Have you anything to tell me, Tony?" she asked in a voice that shook
a little with excitement.  "I know nothing yet except what I've seen
in the paper.  I have tried to ring you up twice, but----"

"How long have you got now?" inquired Tony.

She glanced at the little silver clock on the dressing-table.

"About ten minutes.  Then I have to go on and sing a song, and after
that there's the interval."

"I can tell you everything I know in ten minutes," said Tony, "if
there are no interruptions."

Molly moved quickly to the door and turned the key in the lock.

"Fire ahead," she observed.

A week earlier Tony would have found it quite impossible to crowd the
somewhat eventful history of the last twenty-four hours into the
short time at his disposal.  Practice, however, had been improving
his powers as a story-teller, and without omitting any really
important detail, he actually accomplished the feat with something
like a minute and a half to spare.

Molly was certainly an excellent audience.  Standing motionless at
the door, her lower lip caught tight between her white teeth, she
listened to him with rapt attention that never wavered or varied.
Even when he had finished she still remained silent for a moment;
then with a sudden movement she came towards him, her blue eyes
shining with excitement.

"Tony," she said, speaking with a sort of forced calmness, "are you
absolutely serious about following them?  Do you really mean to sail
for Braxa to-night?"

"I do," replied Tony with quite unusual sobriety.  "You see I have
just found out that I am really fond of Isabel, and I don't see any
other possible chance of getting her back."

"Do you think this is a possible chance?"  She put the question with
an earnestness that robbed it of any suggestion of sarcasm.

"Well, it's a bit thin," admitted Tony frankly, "but after all one
never knows."  He paused.  "To a certain extent, Molly," he added,
"it depends upon you."

She drew in her breath sharply.  "Me?"

Tony nodded.  "You're my trump card," he said encouragingly.  "You
know that signed pass our friend Peter was obliging enough to give
you--the one which he said would take you anywhere if he ever got
back to Livadia as king?"

"Yes," said Molly slowly.

"Well, if you're not using it for the moment," continued Tony, "I'd
be awful obliged if you'd lend it to me.  If it will really do half
of what he said it would it might come in devilish handy."

There was a moment's pause, and then a clatter of footsteps came
hurrying down the passage outside, and someone rapped loudly on the
door.

"Miss Monk, please," shouted a shrill and penetrating voice.

Molly looked round in the direction of the summons.

"All right, Charles," she called out tranquilly: then turning back
she took a momentary glance at herself in the long mirror that hung
against the wall.

"I shall be up again in a minute or two, Tony," she said, skilfully
smoothing out a disordered ribbon.  "Have a cigarette, and don't
worry yourself about the pass.  That will be quite all right."

"You'll lend it to me?" exclaimed Tony gratefully.

Molly paused on the threshold and looked back at him with a sort of
mischievous elation.

"No," she said.  "I won't lend it to you; but I'll bring it with me."

And with this somewhat staggering announcement she opened the door
and disappeared from view.

Whatever effect her remark may have had upon Tony, he appeared to
have recovered from it fairly successfully by the time that she
returned.  At all events she found him reclining in the easy-chair,
enveloped in cigarette smoke, and looking precisely as comfortable
and unruffled as when she had left him.

"Was your parting shot serious, Molly?" he asked in that pleasantly
serene voice of his.

As he spoke he got up from the chair, and Molly, who was a little out
of breath, dropped into the vacant seat.

"It was," she said; "dead, absolute serious.  If you want Peter's
letter you'll have to take me with you to Livadia."  She paused and
looked up at him.  "Say yes, Tony," she added almost fiercely.
"Don't you see that I mean it."

Tony who was gazing down at her with a sort of dispassionate
admiration, nodded his head.

"I see you mean it all right, Molly," he said quietly; "but it's a
bit of a bomb-shell you know.  This won't be exactly a healthy trip
if we happen to mess things up."

Molly leaned across to the dressing-table and helped herself to a
cigarette.

"Tony dear," she observed.  "I know I'm a musical comedy actress, but
it doesn't necessarily follow that I'm a complete idiot.  I
understand perfectly that we're taking on about as risky and hopeless
a job as any one could possibly tackle.  If Da Freitas finds out I
should think the odds are about twenty to one that neither of us will
ever come back."  She struck a match and lighted her cigarette.  "Now
are you satisfied?" she inquired.

"Well, you seem to have a fairly sound grip of the situation,"
admitted Tony.  "Still that doesn't make it any the less of a large
order."  He paused.  "Good Lord, Molly, why it's madness--stark
staring madness!"

"I don't see it," returned Molly obstinately.  "A wife's place is by
her husband's side--especially when he has run away with another
woman."

In spite of himself Tony laughed.  "But supposing we reach
Livadia--suppose we actually get into Portriga--what can you do even
then?"

"What's the good of asking me that?" demanded Molly.  "I don't know
any more than you do--not till the time comes.  The only thing is--"
She broke off, as though not quite sure how to continue.

"Well?" said Tony encouragingly.

"It's just an idea--nothing else at present, but--but you have told
me several times that this girl and I are almost exactly alike."

Tony nodded.  He was staring at her with a sudden expression of
freshly aroused interest.

"Well, don't you see?"  Molly threw away her cigarette and rose to
her feet.  "Surely it's just possible that somehow--by some sort of a
chance--we might be able to make use of this to help us."  She
laughed almost hysterically.  "Oh, I know it sounds wild and mad, but
what notion have you got that's any better?"

Tony took a couple of paces to the door, and back to where she was
standing.

"By Jove, it's an idea, Molly!" he said slowly.  "If we could get you
there without being found out----"

"I have thought of that," she interrupted.  "I was thinking of it all
the time I was on the stage."  She paused.  "Tony--you remember that
song I was singing a couple of years ago--the one in which I used to
dress up as a curate?"

He nodded.

"Well, I've still got the things I wore--the clothes and the wig and
the spectacles--in fact the whole get-up.  It was so good that once,
just for a joke, I went out into the street in it.  I walked the
whole way down the Strand, and not a soul spotted that there was
anything wrong."

The old gleam of mischievous amusement leaped into Tony's eyes.

"Good Lord, Molly!" he said.  "And you propose to take the trip--in
those?"

"Why not?" she demanded.  "I can carry it through all right--really
and truly I can.  After all there's no reason you couldn't have a
curate on board, is there?"

"None at all," said Tony.  "Oh, none at all."  He leaned against the
wall and began to laugh, gently and joyously.

Molly faced him with shining eyes.  "Then you'll take me?" she
exclaimed.

Again Tony nodded his head.  "I'll take you, Molly," he answered, "if
it's only for the sake of seeing Guy's face."

There was another clatter and shuffle of footsteps outside, and the
voice of the call-boy came echoing down the passage.

"Beginners, Act two, please!"

Tony stopped laughing.  "How about your work?  How about your part
here at the theatre?" he asked.

"Oh, damn the theatre," said Molly simply.  "I've got a very good
understudy, and they'll have to put up with her."  She glanced again
rapidly at the clock.  "Listen, Tony--we've got exactly two minutes,
and then I must start changing.  I shall have to have the dresser in,
and we can't talk in front of her.  Tell me now--right away--just
what you want me to do."

For a moment Tony reflected rapidly.

"I think the best plan will be for you to motor down with me," he
said.  "I can send Guy and Bugg in one car with Jennings, and call
for you at your place with the other.  I shan't tell Guy anything
about it until you're safe on board."

"Why?" asked Molly.  "Do you think he'll mind?"

"I am sure he will," said Tony cheerfully.  "But it will be too late
for him to do anything then unless he tries to throw you into the
sea."  He paused.  "Can you be ready by nine-thirty sharp?"

Molly nodded.  "I won't keep you waiting," she said.

There was a knock at the door, and having been granted permission to
enter, the secretive looking dresser reappeared on the scene.

"Beg pardon for hinterrupting, Miss," she observed apologetically,
"but it's time you was startin' to change."

"Quite right, Jane," said Molly.  She turned to Tony and held out her
hand.  "Well, thanks for coming and looking me up, Tony," she added.
"See you again quite soon, I hope."

Tony raised her hand and kissed the tip of her fingers.  "Why, yes,"
he said; "we'll probably run across each other before long."

* * * * * * *

It was just twenty minutes later when Lady Jocelyn's pretty
parlourmaid opened the door of the drawing-room at Chester Square,
and in a slightly agitated voice, for such a well trained retainer,
announced the arrival of Sir Antony Conway.

Tony, who had followed hard upon her heels, came straight up to the
sofa, where, as usual, his aunt was sitting.  She looked older and
very frail, and her thin hands trembled a little as she stretched
them to greet him.

"Tony!" she exclaimed, "my dear boy!"

He sat down beside her, holding her hands in his.

"Aunt Fanny," he said severely; "you have been breaking my rules.
You know that you're never allowed to look unhappy or worried."

"It wasn't altogether my fault it happened, Tony," she said.  "I
would have given my stupid useless old life twice over to have
stopped it."

In a tender, half jesting fashion he slipped his arm round her.  "You
mustn't talk like that, Aunt Fanny dear," he said.  "In fact you
mustn't talk at all.  You must just sit still and listen to me.
There is no time for anything else."

Lady Jocelyn clasped her hands in her lap.  "Go on," she said quietly.

All the way from the Gaiety to the house, Tony had been pondering in
his mind just how much of the truth it would be advisable to tell.
Knowing his aunt, he was not afraid that she would try to dissuade
him from his purpose, however dangerous it might appear; he was
merely anxious to present it in as favourable a light as possible, so
as to spare her any avoidable anxiety.

With this idea he omitted all reference to the attempt upon the
_Betty_, confining himself entirely to a description of Congosta's
visit.  He repeated the latter's story of what had happened to
Isabel, and went on to relate how the plan for a possible rescue had
been promptly and happily conceived.  By means of a little judicious
colouring he was able to make it appear a far more feasible
proposition than when it had originally presented itself in the hall
of Goodman's Rest.

Of his subsequent visit to the Gaiety he said nothing at all.
Molly's presence on board the _Betty_ in the guise of a curate might
or might not be of assistance, but from the point of view of
inspiring confidence in the enterprise, it seemed to be one of those
features which were better suppressed.

Lady Jocelyn listened to him without interruption.  Her face betrayed
nothing of what she was feeling, and for a moment after he had
finished speaking, Tony was under the impression that his well meant
efforts had been entirely successful.  Then, with her faint kindly
smile, she laid her hand upon his sleeve.

"Thank you, Tony dear," she said.  "It was good of you to come and
tell me all this, and it was nicer still of you to have told it in
the way you have.  Of course I don't really believe you.  I am quite
sure it's a much more dangerous business than you make out, but as
long as there is the shadow of a chance of helping Isabel I should be
the last to try and dissuade you.  Go, Tony, and do what you can for
her; and God bless you and help you."

There was a short pause, and then Tony bent forward and kissed her.

"I am glad you love Isabel," he said simply.

"She is the sweetest and bravest girl I have ever known," answered
Lady Jocelyn.  "If you can't save her from this marriage, Tony, I
think it will break my heart."

Tony got up from the sofa, and buttoned his coat.

"Don't you worry about that, Aunt Fanny," he said.  "Peter won't get
her--not if I have to shoot him at the altar rails."




CHAPTER XIX

JIMMY DALE

"That," said Captain Simmons, "is Braxa."

He pointed out ahead to where the desolate-looking sandy coast that
they had been skirting for some hours rose suddenly into an irregular
line of hills and cliffs.

"If you have a look through these," he added, "you'll be able to see
the entrance to the bay."

Tony, who was standing beside him on the bridge, lightly clad in blue
silk pyjamas and a Norfolk jacket, took the proffered glasses and
levelled them in the direction indicated.  In the bright early
morning sunshine he could plainly make out the small opening in the
coastline, behind which a number of pink and white houses could be
seen straggling picturesquely up the hillside.

"It looks a very nice place," he said generously.  "How long do you
think it will take us to get there?"

Captain Simmons glanced at his watch.  "We shall make the point in
about three quarters of an hour," he said.  "We ought to be at anchor
by half-past nine."

"In that case," said Tony, "I shall go and have some breakfast.  I
shall be much too excited to eat eggs and bacon when we're once in
the harbour."

He left the bridge, and after pausing for a moment on the warm deck
to take another appreciative glance round at the sunlit expanse of
blue sky and foam-flecked sea, he pursued his leisurely way down the
main companion to his cabin.

A quarter of an hour later he emerged again looking very cool and
comfortable in a well cut suit of grey flannels.  Nothing would ever
induce him to adopt a more conventional form of yachting costume; his
own explanation being that white duck and blue serge invariably made
him sea-sick.

As he passed along the passage on his way to the saloon, a cabin door
swung open and someone stepped out almost into his arms.  It was
Molly, but any one who could have recognized the fact without being
told so must have possessed an extraordinary acuteness of perception.

As far as outward appearance went she was as sound and convincing a
curate as the most fastidious vicar could possibly demand.  Even the
cleverest actresses, when they dress up as men, nearly always betray
the fact in a dozen ways, but except for a certain delicacy of
feature, there was absolutely nothing about her to arouse the
faintest suspicion.  With her gold-rimmed spectacles and her smoothly
brushed and amazingly natural wig, she looked a perfect specimen of
that rather fragile type of young clergyman, who is apt to stir a
tender and half maternal passion in the hearts of middle-aged
spinsters.

Tony, who had had forty-eight hours in which to become accustomed to
this masterpiece, stopped and gazed at her in fresh and profound
admiration.

"It's marvellous, Molly," he observed, "absolutely marvellous!  Every
time I look at you I feel exactly as if I was going to say grace."

She laughed and in a rather unclerical fashion, slid her arm through
his.

"Well, come along and do it then," she said.  "I'm quite ready for
breakfast."

They made their way to the saloon, where they found Guy already
established, and the steward in the very act of bringing in the
coffee.  Guy's face was a little pale--the result of a slight attack
of seasickness on the previous day, and disapproval which had been
stamped firmly on it ever since he had found out that Molly was to
accompany them on the trip.

"Do you know," said Tony, as they seated themselves at the table,
"that in an hour's time we shall be at anchor in Braxa Harbour?"

There was an exclamation from both his companions.

"I didn't realize we were as near as that," said Guy.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" demanded Molly.  "I should have gone
up on deck to have a look."

"I thought you had better have your breakfast first," said Tony.
"It's very bad for one to get excited on an empty tummy."  He helped
himself handsomely to eggs and bacon.  "Besides we must be very
careful how we show ourselves at present.  The skipper says there's a
coast-guard station at the entrance to the bay, and if it's still in
working order they have probably got us under observation already."

"Do you think they'll want to come and search us when we reach the
harbour?" asked Guy a little apprehensively.

Tony shrugged his shoulders.  "That's what they're there for," he
said; "but when there's a revolution and two or three civil wars
buzzing about, people are apt to get a little careless in their work.
Anyhow I'm not worrying myself about that.  Our dear old friend
Colonel Saltero is expecting us, and you can be quite sure he doesn't
mean to have his cartridges mopped up by any one else."  He paused to
refill his cup.  "What I'm thinking about is Jimmy," he added.  "It
will make all the difference in the world if Jimmy can only manage to
get on board before the Colonel does.  We shall have some sort of a
notion where we are then."

"I shouldn't think there was much chance of it," observed Molly.

"You never know," said Tony hopefully.  "There's a lot of resource
about Jimmy.  A money-lender once spent six weeks trying to serve a
writ on him, and he couldn't do it even then."

There was a knock at the cabin door, and in answer to Tony's "Come
in," one of the crew presented himself on the threshold.

"If you please, Sir Ant'ny," he began, "the Captain's compliments,
and there's a party o' the name o' Dale signallin' to us from a small
cutter to starboard.  Says 'e's a friend o' yours, sir.  The Capt'n
wants to know if we shall stop and pick him up."

There was a dramatic pause, and then Tony wheeled round in his chair
so as to face the speaker.

"Pick him up!" he repeated.  "Why I should think so, Jackson.  Pick
him' up tenderly--touch him with care.  Tell Captain Simmons I'll be
up on deck myself as soon as I've finished this piece of bacon."

With a grin and a salute, the sailor departed, and turning back to
the table, Tony gazed triumphantly at Guy and Molly.

"Well, my children," he observed; "what did uncle tell you?"

Molly pushed back her plate.  "It was a put-up job, Tony," she said,
"you knew he was there."

"I didn't," retorted Tony, "on my honour.  There wasn't a boat of any
kind in sight when I was on the bridge.  I feel it's a sign that
Providence approves of us."

Molly looked at him and saw that he was speaking the truth.

"Well, we've started," she said with a little triumphant laugh.  "Can
I come up with you?"

Tony shook his head.  "I think you had better lie low for the
present," he answered.  "You're the Queen of Trumps in this game,
Molly, and we don't want to play you too soon."

Molly looked a trifle disappointed, but she raised no objection.
"All right," she said obediently.  "I'll save myself up for the King."

Tony rose from the table.  "I'll bring Jimmy down as soon as he's on
board," he said.  "You had better get out the whisky and soda.  He's
sure to be hungry."

He left the cabin, followed by Guy, and making his way up the
companion, stepped out on to the smooth and spotless deck.

The _Betty_ had slowed down almost completely and only a faint ripple
in her wake showed that she was still moving.  Hove to, a little
distance ahead, lay a small cutter of about seven tons, from which a
dinghy with a couple of men on board was just putting out.

They rowed rapidly across the intervening water so as to cut off the
yacht, and timing it to perfection reached their destination just as
she was practically ceasing to move.  An accommodation ladder had
been let down over the side, and Jimmy, a stout and happy looking
young gentleman who was crouching in the bows, grabbed hold of it
neatly as it came alongside.  The next moment he had scrambled on
board, and the boat with its solitary occupant was drifting away
astern.

"Once aboard the lugger--" observed the newcomer in an
extraordinarily soft voice, and then with a faint chuckle he stepped
forward and clasped Tony's outstretched hand.  "Hope I haven't come
too early?" he added cheerfully.

Tony wrung his hand, and taking a pace backwards surveyed him with an
affectionate approval.

"My dear Jimmy," he said.  "You come like the flowers in May."

"And I may mention," added Jimmy, transferring his grip to Guy, "that
I come after a prolonged and distressing drought."

Tony smiled happily.  "I have ordered breakfast for you," he said.
"We will go straight down, as soon as I have introduced you to the
skipper."

Captain Simmons, who had left the bridge, was advancing along the
deck towards them.

"This is my friend Jimmy Dale, Captain," said Tony.  "He is one of
Portriga's most distinguished citizens."

"That so?" said the skipper extending a huge brown paw.  "Glad to
meet you, Mr. Dale.  Perhaps you can tell us what's going on ashore,
and whether we're likely to hit any trouble if we run straight in to
Braxa."

"I shouldn't think so," replied Jimmy in his soft and pleasing voice.
"As far as I know all the able-bodied officials in Braxa have pushed
off to Portriga to join in the looting.  I believe there are one or
two policemen left, but I don't suppose they are awake yet."

"We won't disturb 'em," said the Captain.  "We'll come in nice and
quiet, and let 'em have their nap out.  Do you know the harbour at
all, Mr. Dale?"

"Pretty fair," said Jimmy.  "I've been out fishing in it a good
number of times."

"Well, perhaps when we get round the Head you wouldn't mind coming up
on the bridge.  I've never been in here before, and there might be
one or two points I'd be glad of a little information about."

"I'll bring him along," said Tony.  "How soon will he be wanted?"

"Oh, there's no hurry," replied the Captain genially.  "Plenty o'
time for a good breakfast.  We shan't be off the Head for another
twenty minutes yet."

He turned to retrace his steps, and after offering Jimmy a cigarette,
Tony started to lead the way below.

Molly was still sitting at the table when they entered the saloon,
and at the unexpected sight Jimmy's good-natured countenance betrayed
a momentary surprise and embarrassment.

"Ah, I forgot to tell you we had a friend with us," said Tony easily.
"Let me introduce you.  The Reverend Mr. Monk--my old pal Jimmy Dale."

They shook hands gravely--an action which proved nearly too much even
for the sedate Guy, who turned away hastily to hide his expression.

"Dear old James," said Tony.  "It's so nice to see you again.  Have
some eggs and bacon?"

Jimmy sat down at the table and automatically pulled the whisky and
soda towards himself.

"I'll have anything that's going," he replied obligingly.  "But what
I should like best of all are a few explanations.  At present I feel
as if I was taking a small part in a cinematograph film."

He squirted a modest supply of soda into his tumbler, and accepted
the well supplied plate which Molly handed across to him.

"You shall have everything in a minute if you are good and patient,"
said Tony encouragingly.  "To start with, however, there are one or
two questions that we want to ask you.  You mayn't be aware of it,
Jimmy, but at the present moment you are a very valuable and
important person."

"I felt it," said Jimmy; "I felt it directly I stepped on board."  He
took a deep and apparently much welcome drink, and set down the
tumbler.

"We want you to tell us," went on Tony, "exactly what's been
happening in Livadia since the day before yesterday.  We know all
about the beginning of the Revolution, but we are not quite
up-to-date with the last part."

"The day before yesterday," repeated Jimmy thoughtfully.  "Let's
see--that was Thursday, wasn't it?  There's been such a lot of blood
and noise and free drinks about that I've got a bit mixed up in my
dates."  He paused to take a large mouthful of egg and bacon.
"Thursday," he continued a little indistinctly, "was just about the
brightest and breeziest day we've had.  It was the morning that
Almaida made his big attack on the Royalists, and they were scrapping
from eight o'clock until three or four in the afternoon.  They would
have gone on longer, only all the wine shops had been cleaned out by
then and everybody was so thirsty that they had to stop."

"And what happened?" asked Guy.  "Who got the best of it?"

"Well, I suppose it was more or less of a drawn battle," returned
Jimmy indifferently.  "Almaida managed to cross the river and bag the
railway station and the Town Hall, but as they'd both been burned to
the ground I don't suppose he got much for his trouble.  It was quite
a merry little romp while it lasted though."

Tony reached across for the whisky and helped himself to a companion
peg.

"What did you do in the great war, Daddy?" he inquired.

"Me!" said Jimmy.  "Oh, I was a very good little boy.  I hoisted the
Union Jack, and stopped in my own house, and when any one tried the
front door I fired at them out of the window.  I don't think I hit
anybody--I'm such a putrid shot with a revolver."

"Well, you did your best," said Tony consolingly, "and that's all
that really matters."

Jimmy shook his head.  "I used up a lot of cartridges," he objected,
"and they cost no end of money out here.  Besides I should like to
have slaughtered just one Livadian.  One doesn't often get the chance
of doing such a good turn to humanity."

"But how about the Revolution?" broke in Guy a trifle impatiently.
"What happened after the fighting came to an end?"

"Oh, the fighting didn't come to an end," returned Jimmy.  "It was
only the battle.  People went on shooting each other privately all
night, and next morning there was some sort of an attempt at another
general engagement.  It was nothing like Thursday, however, because
both sides were running short of ammunition.  However, I thought it
seemed healthier indoors, so I stayed where I was until about three
o'clock, when I suddenly noticed that the shooting was beginning to
stop, and that the people were gathering together into groups and
jawing and jabbering like a lot of monkeys.  I guessed that something
had happened, so I loaded up my revolver and shoved on a hat, and
tootled out into the sunshine."

He paused to select a cigar from the case which Tony was holding out
to him.

"Almost the first person I ran into," he went on, "was a man I
happened to know.  I asked him what was up, and he told me that there
was a report all over the town that Pedro and Da Freitas had just
arrived from England with Don Francisco's daughter, and that she and
the King were going to be married at once.  Well, of course, that put
the hat on everything so to speak.  Whatever Almaida's private
notions may have been, he was nominally fighting to make this girl
Queen of Livadia, and if she was really going to be married to Pedro,
the whole thing was nothing but a damned farce."  He coughed and
turned to Molly.  "Sorry, Padre," he added apologetically.  "Forgot
you were here."

Molly inclined her head gravely, and once again Guy turned away to
conceal his emotions.

"Go on, James," said Tony in a reassuring voice.  "You needn't be
afraid of shocking Mr. Monk.  He has been chaplain to a bishop."

"There's not so very much more to tell," said Jimmy.  "At first, of
course, most of Almaida's people thought it was just a bluff on the
part of the Royalists--a sort of trick to try and upset 'em and then
catch 'em on the hop.  By six o'clock, however, posters and bills
began to be shoved up all over the place.  No one seemed to know who
was doing it, but there they were as large as life, saying that the
marriage would come off in the Cathedral on Sunday morning, and
calling upon all the Franciscans to lay down their arms.  I was
coming back home, when I found one of them stuck up on the
post-office wall, almost exactly opposite my house.  I stopped to
have a look, and while I was reading it a chap came sidling down the
street and pulled up alongside of me.  He was a pretty average
looking sort of scoundrel, with a dirty bandage round his head
instead of a cap.  I could see that he was squinting at me out of the
corner of his eye, and I was just wondering whether I'd better move
on quietly or plug him hard on the jaw, when he suddenly asked me in
a hoarse whisper if I was the Señor James Dale.  I told him I was,
and then to my utter astonishment he gabbled out some message to the
effect that you were coming to Livadia and that the _Betty_ was
expected at Braxa early this morning.  It fairly took my breath away
for a minute, and before I could ask him a single question some more
people came round the corner of the street, and he skidded off like a
rat when it sees a terrier."

Tony laughed softly.  "Have another drink, James," he suggested.
"I'm sorry to have given you these nervous shocks, but we were rather
pressed for time."

"Oh, I rallied all right," said Jimmy, helping himself to a second
peg.  "It was a bit of a thunderbolt for a moment, but knowing your
taste in amusements I realized at once that it was just the sort of
time you would choose for a pleasure trip to Livadia.  Of course I
hadn't a notion how you had managed to get the message through to me,
but after all that didn't really matter.  The great thing was to get
to Braxa in time to meet you."

He paused to refresh himself.

"How did you manage it?" inquired Guy.  "I suppose there are no
trains running or anything of that sort."

"The only thing that's running in Livadia at the present moment is
blood," returned Jimmy cheerfully.  "Fortunately for me, however, I'd
got a car.  I sneaked it out of the garage quietly on Monday when the
trouble started, and I had it locked up in a sort of out-house at the
back of my place.  I knew, of course, that I hadn't a dog's chance of
getting out of the town with it on my own, so without fooling around
I went straight off to the British Consulate, which is quite close to
where I live.  I managed to get hold of Watson himself, and he gave
me a letter saying that I was a British subject, and if anybody
interfered with me all sorts of giddy things would happen to him.  Of
course it wasn't exactly a gilt-edged security in a time like this:
still it was the best thing I could get, and I thought that with the
help of a bit of bluff it might pull me through."  He paused.  "Well,
to cut a long yarn short, it did.  I had a little trouble on the
road, but I reached Braxa at last--about three o'clock this
morning--and knocked up an old boy that I used to go fishing with.  I
explained the situation to him--more or less--and we came to the
conclusion that the best plan would be to pick you up outside the
harbour.  He helped me stuff away the car in an old shed he's got up
at the top of the jetty; then we just tumbled into his boat
and--and--well, here we are."  He leaned back and surveyed his
companions.  "And now," he added placidly, "perhaps you'll be kind
enough to let me know what the devil it all means."

There was a brief pause.

"I'll tell him if you like," offered Guy.

Tony glanced at his watch.  "I think you had better leave it to me,"
he said.  "We shall be wanted on deck in a few minutes, and I've had
such a lot of practice, I'm sure I can tell it quicker than any one
else."  He turned to Jimmy.  "It's an exciting story, James; but you
must listen very carefully and not interrupt me."

Mr. Dale crossed his legs.  "Let her rip," he observed tranquilly.

Once more, and this time with a masterly brevity that put all his
previous efforts in the shade, Tony proceeded to relate the series of
stimulating incidents which had sprung from his chance encounter with
Isabel outside the Long Acre flats.  Owing to his highly condensed
method it was impossible to avoid a certain obscurity about some of
the details, but obedient to his instructions Jimmy received it all
in unquestioning silence.

For a moment, even after Tony had finished, he still remained mute;
then with a sudden soft little chuckle he got up from his chair, and
thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets.

"My sainted Aunt!" he observed.  "If ever there was a purple picnic
on this earth it seems to me we've struck it."  He paused, as though
overwhelmed with the magnificence of the situation.  "And this girl,"
he went on slowly, "this girl who's so like the Princess?  Do you
really mean to say that you have brought her with you--that you've
got her here--on board?"

"We have," replied Tony, "very much so."

Jimmy glanced round the cabin.  "Well, where is she?  What have you
done with her?"

Tony turned his seat in the direction of the Rev. Mr. Monk.

"Get up, Molly," he said.  "Get up and make the gentleman a nice
curtsey."

With her most bewitching smile, Molly rose to her feet, and picking
up the skirts of her coat in either hand, sank gracefully towards the
floor.

For an instant, for just one poignant instant, Jimmy remained gazing
at her in open-mouthed incredulity; and then with an apologetic rap
on the door the seaman Jackson again presented himself on the
threshold.

"If you please, Sir Ant'ny--the Capt'n's compliments, and he'd be
glad to see you and the other gentleman on the bridge."




CHAPTER XX

COUNTERPLOTTING

It would have been difficult to find anything more restful looking
than Braxa Harbour, as it lay flooded in the morning sunshine.
Whatever bloodthirsty events might have taken place further inland,
they had certainly failed to produce any visible effect upon this
tranquil little fishing village.

From the bridge of the _Betty_, which had come to anchor a couple of
hundred yards off the end of the long stone jetty, there was nothing
to be seen that in any way broke the agreeable atmosphere of peace
and harmony.  Except for a few old boats, the sandy beach was
absolutely deserted, while the pink and white houses, that clambered
up the hill at the back, seemed pleasantly asleep in the shadow of
their surrounding trees.  Round a low headland on the right, a small
river meandered out into the bay, its tranquil current being plainly
visible against the clear blue of the sea water.

"I've seen livelier looking places," observed Captain Simmons
critically, "but I can't say I ever saw a much more dangerous harbour
for a big yacht, not if it should come on to blow from the sou'-west."

Tony leaned meditatively over the rail and inspected the prospect.

"I'm afraid we have arrived a little early," he said.  "The Mayor and
Corporation don't seem to be up yet."

"Oh, there's never much of a rush here in the morning," remarked
Jimmy, who was standing beside him.  "I once saw a dog on the beach
before breakfast, but I think he'd been out all night."  He tossed
the stump of his cigar over the side and watched it drop down into
the water.  "What do we do now?" he inquired.

"Well, considering that we've come by invitation," answered Tony, "I
should say the best thing was to sit tight and admire the view.
Somebody will probably notice that we've arrived, sooner or later."

With a sudden movement the Captain raised his glasses, and levelled
them on the point away to the right where the river ran out into the
bay.

"Seems to me," he observed, "that somebody's noticed it already."

He pointed to the headland, and as he did so both his companions
suddenly caught sight of something low and black in the water that
was moving slowly out of the mouth of the river.

"It's a petrol launch," said the skipper, "and unless I'm much
mistaken they're coming along to say good-morning to us."

With quiet deliberation Tony surveyed the advancing vessel, which was
already swinging round in the direction of the _Betty_.

"I can't see any one yet," he announced, "but it's pretty sure to be
Colonel Saltero.  Jimmy, you'd better go downstairs and lock yourself
in the bathroom with Molly.  I don't want him to know that we're a
passenger steamer.'

"Right you are," said Jimmy with alacrity.  "Come and tell us when
it's all over."

He climbed down the bridge ladder, whistling tunefully to himself,
and turning back towards the approaching launch, Tony again
scrutinized it carefully through his glasses.

As it drew nearer he was able to see that there were three men on
board, and amongst them he soon made out the square-shouldered,
aggressive figure of Colonel Saltero.  That distinguished warrior was
seated in the stern, and even from a considerable distance one could
detect the air of truculent authority with which he was directing
operations.

Tony snapped his glasses together and turned to the skipper.

"I think I had better go down on the deck, and prepare to make pretty
speeches," he said.  "I suppose they will be able to come alongside
all right."

Captain Simmons eyed his advancing visitors with an air of
mistrustful calculation.

"I wouldn't go as far as that," he observed grimly, "but I dare say
they'll manage it somehow or other."

"Never mind," said Tony, "paint's cheap."

He descended in leisurely fashion to the deck, and walked across to
the starboard side, where the members of the crew had collected
together awaiting the skipper's orders.

A little apart from the others, and leaning over the rail, stood Mr.
McEwen and "Tiger" Bugg.  For some obscure reason these two had
struck up an immediate and firm friendship, with the result that Bugg
had spent practically the entire trip in the breezy atmosphere of the
engine-room.

Tony strolled up and joined them.

"Guid-morning to ye, Sir Antony," observed the chief engineer
removing his pipe.

"Good-morning, Mr. McEwen," said Tony.  "Having a look at the
visitors?"

There was a pause.

"I was wondering," said Mr. McEwen softly, "whether yon swab who put
that nine-inch spanner in my cylinder micht be amang the pairty."

Tony shook his head.  "I'm afraid not," he replied regretfully.

There was a sudden exclamation of interest from Bugg.

"Why, look, sir!  See 'im, sir?  It's the cross-eyed bloke.  The one
I knocked aht in Long Acre."

He pointed excitedly towards the approaching launch, above which the
sombre scowl of Colonel Saltero was now plainly visible to the naked
eye.

"You're quite right, Bugg," said Tony.  "It's the same gentleman, but
he is coming to see me this time in a nice friendly spirit, so
perhaps you had better keep out of the way.  He mightn't like to be
reminded of that push in the face."

With his usual ready obedience Bugg faded from the scene, and as he
did so the voice of Captain Simmons came curtly and incisively from
the bridge.

"Stand by with the fender, and look out for our paint."

A couple of the crew, under the direction of the second officer,
hurried to fulfil the order, while two others climbed over the rail,
ready to drop down and assist in the operation.

Shutting off her engine as she approached, the launch came swirling
round in a half circle.  There was a brief moment of strained
suspense, and then skilfully avoiding the fender, she bumped heavily
alongside, in a fashion that brought a cry of anguish from Captain
Simmons' lips.  The two waiting sailors dropped nimbly on to her
deck, and commenced to make her fast, and the next moment, flushed
but triumphant, Colonel Saltero was mounting the accommodation ladder.

As he emerged over the top, Tony stepped forward to meet him.

"How d'you do, Colonel?" he observed in a friendly voice.  "Glad to
see you again."

Clicking his heels together, Colonel Saltero made him a stiff
military bow.

"Permit me, Sir Antony," he replied, "to welcome you to Livadia."

"Thanks very much," said Tony.  Then pausing for a moment to allow
his visitor to recover a perpendicular position, he added hospitably:
"Come along down and have a whisky."

The invitation did not seem to be altogether unwelcome, but like a
true soldier the Colonel's first considerations were evidently for
his duty.

"You have brought the cartridges?" he demanded, with a swift and
slightly suspicious glance round the deck.

"Rather," said Tony, "any amount of 'em."  He turned to the second
officer.  "You had better start getting those boxes on board the
launch right away," he added.  "Colonel Saltero and I are going below
to have a little chat."

He led the way down the companion to his private cabin, and ushering
his guest in closed the door behind them.

"Well, you got Congosta's message all right then," he said, going to
the cupboard and getting out the whisky and soda.  "You know what an
unholy mess I've managed to make of things."

The Colonel, who was standing in a stiff and military attitude, made
a slight gesture of assent.

"Sir Antony!" he said, "I am a soldier, and it is my habit to speak
plain words.  I will not hide my opinion that with regard to the
Princess you have failed us badly."

Tony splashed out a full-handed allowance of old Glenlivet and
sprinkled it carefully with soda.

"Go on," he said encouragingly.  "Say exactly what you like."

He handed the glass to the Colonel, who took a long and apparently
satisfactory drink.

"At the same time," continued the latter, "I do not wish to be
ungrateful.  If what Señor Congosta tells me is true, you have done
your best to make up for your fault.  These cartridges--" he set down
the empty tumbler--"these cartridges, which I understand you have
presented to the army, may yet be the means of saving Livadia."

"That's good," observed Tony.  "But how are you going to get them to
Portriga?"

The Colonel made a gesture with his hand.  "There is no difficulty.
The river which you see runs up within two miles of the town, and
both banks are strongly held by our men."

"What about the people here--the coast-guards and police?  Are they
on your side?"

Colonel Saltero smiled sombrely.  "There are no coast-guards left,"
he said.  "As for the police--" he shrugged his shoulders--"some say
that the officer in command here is a friend of Da Freitas, but I do
not think he will interfere with us."

Tony stretched out his hand, and picking up his guest's empty glass
commenced to refill it.

"That sounds all right as far as it goes," he remarked; "but it seems
to me we are up against another pretty stiff problem.  If Pedro
marries the Princess, as I suppose he will, it rather knocks the
bottom out of your game--doesn't it?"

For a moment the Colonel hesitated.  Despite the gift of the
cartridges, some faint suspicion of Tony's entire good faith seemed
still to linger in his mind.

"We are not without our plans," he replied cautiously.

Without appearing to notice the implied mistrust Tony filled the
tumbler and handed it back to him.

"Of course not," he remarked cheerfully.  "You and Señor Congosta are
not the sort of people to leave things to chance.  I was only
wondering if I couldn't be of any further help to you.  It was all my
fault the Princess was captured, and I want to do everything I can to
make up for it."

This frank and simple speech, or else a second long draught of
Glenlivet which the Colonel promptly poured down his throat, seemed
to have a slightly mellowing effect upon that reserved warrior.

"We have a plan," he repeated, "but I will admit to you, Sir Antony,
that there is much danger.  Even now it is known everywhere that the
Princess is in Da Freitas' hands, and already there are those who say
'what is the use of more fighting?'  If we had money----"

"Money!" exclaimed Tony.  "My dear chap, why didn't you say so
before?"  He crossed again to the cupboard, and stooping down took
out two fat white bags, which he placed upon the table with an
agreeable chink.

"I thought it just possible you might be short of cash," he
explained, "so I brought a couple of thousand along with me."

The Colonel's eyes glistened.

"In gold?" he asked hoarsely.

Tony loosened the mouth of one of the bags, and tipped out a little
shining stream of yellow coins.

"All in the best English sovereigns," he said, gathering them up and
replacing them again.  Then, with a graceful gesture, he pushed both
bags across the table.  "Take them, Colonel," he added.  "Take them
from me as a small gift towards the freedom of Livadia."

For a moment the Colonel was too overcome to speak.

"Sir Antony," he exclaimed at last, "you must give me your pardon.
Congosta was right in what he said.  I did you a great wrong in ever
doubting your honour."  He raised his half empty glass.  "I drink,"
he said, "to the saviour of my country."

Tony bowed.  "That," he replied, "is a title which I think already
belongs to you--or Señor Congosta."

There was a dramatic pause, and then the Colonel set down his glass.

"I will tell you," he said bluntly, "what it is that we propose to
do.  It is right that you should know."  With an instinctive glance
round the cabin, as if to make quite certain that there were no
eavesdroppers, he advanced towards the table.  "In the afternoon,
yesterday," he went on, "Pedro and Da Freitas landed in Portriga.
They have brought the Princess and the Count de Sé with them.
Already there are notices, placed up all over the town, saying that
on Sunday morning the marriage will take place in the Cathedral."

Tony looked at him with an expression of amazement.  "I say!" he
exclaimed.  "They haven't wasted much time."

"It is not in the way of Da Freitas to waste time," agreed the
Colonel.

For a moment Tony remained silent.  "Well, what are you going to do?"
he asked.  "It seems to me that unless you can stop this interesting
little arrangement the whole thing's finished.  You can't expect
people to go on fighting for a queen who's already on the throne."

Saltero came a step closer still.  "There will be no wedding," he
said grimly.  "By ten o'clock to-night the Princess will be in our
hands."

He paused, as if to allow the statement time to sink in.

Tony indulged in a low whistle.  "By Jove!" he exclaimed.  "How are
you going to work it?"

Once more the Colonel glanced round the cabin, and then sunk his
voice to a kind of low rumble, which was apparently as near as he
could get to a whisper.

"We have found out that the Princess has been taken to the Château of
Saint Anna.  It is in the mountains, ten miles from Portriga.  The
Count de Saint Anna is an old friend of Pedro's father."

"Are you going to attack the place?"  Tony put the question quite
quietly, though his fingers had tightened a little upon the cigarette
that he was holding.

The Colonel shook his head.  "It is impossible.  There is only one
road up through the hills, and all the approaches to it are held by
Da Freitas' soldiers.  A hundred men could defend it against an army.'

"It sounds a bit awkward," said Tony.

Colonel Saltero smiled malevolently.  "It is our good fortune," he
continued, "to have had further information.  We have learned that at
nine o'clock to-night the Princess will be brought into the town in
order that she may be ready for the ceremony in the morning.
Doubtless there will be an escort--a strong escort, but all the
same--" he paused and his grey eyes narrowed into a couple of
dangerous looking slits--"I do not think that they will ever reach
Portriga.  I do not think that they will get further than the bridge
at Valona."

Tony laid down his cigarette.  "I hope you will be careful if there's
going to be a scrap," he said anxiously.  "I shouldn't like anything
to happen to Isabel.  She seemed rather a nice girl."

The Colonel drew himself up a little stiffly.  "Our plans have been
well made," he replied.  "There will be no danger to the Princess.
By ten o'clock she will be safe with General Almaida."

There was another and longer pause.

"If it comes off," observed Tony slowly, "it will be a nasty jar for
Pedro and Da Freitas."

Once again the Colonel smiled viciously.  "It will be the end," he
said.  "Da Freitas has staked everything upon this marriage, and if
he cannot bring forward the Princess on Sunday, the whole country
will know that they have been deceived.  There will be risings and
riots everywhere: even his own soldiers will turn against him.  Then
we shall attack again, and this time there will be no going back.
Before night comes, Isabella will be Queen of Livadia."

He stooped forward, and gathering up the two bags of gold stepped
back from the table.

"Well, it's very good of you to have told me all this," said Tony
gratefully.  "It has made me feel much more comfortable in my mind."
He laid his hand upon the whisky bottle.  "Have another drink before
we go up?" he suggested.

The Colonel shook his head with some regret.

"I thank you, no," he said.  "There are many things to do, and the
time is short.  With your permission we will return to the deck."




CHAPTER XXI

THE SOLUTION

"And that," said Tony, leaning back in his chair, "is absolutely
every damned thing that I could get out of him."

His three companions, Molly, Guy, and Jimmy, who were seated in
various attitudes round the cabin table, surveyed him for a moment in
deep and reflective silence.

Then Guy cleared his throat.  "On the whole," he said, "I think you
have managed remarkably well."

"I did my best," replied Tony modestly, "but he's a reticent blighter
for a Colonel.  I didn't dare pump him any further for fear that he
might get suspicious.  As it is I think he was half sorry he had told
me as much as he had before I got him over the side."

"Well, we've collected quite a lot of interesting stuff to go on
with," said Jimmy contentedly.  "The great question is how are we
going to use it?"

"Do you know where these two places are?" asked Tony.  "The Château
of Saint Anna--and the bridge at Valona?"

Jimmy nodded.  "Both of 'em.  There isn't a yard of this country I
haven't tootled over at some time or other."  He looked hopefully at
Tony.  "Have you got any bright notion at the back of your mind?"

"Not yet," said Tony.  "I haven't had the chance of working things
out.  That's what I've called this Cabinet Council for."  He turned
to his cousin.

"What do you think about it, Guy?" he asked.  "You're the eldest, so
you shall speak first."

"It seems to me," said Guy deliberately, "that there is not the
faintest chance of rescuing Isabel, except by the employment of
violence."

There was a soft and delighted chuckle from Jimmy to which he paid no
attention.

"That being so," he continued calmly, "the question resolves itself
into where and how we should make the attempt.  As far as I can see
there is only one answer.  If we can reach Valona, it's just possible
that in the confusion of this attack one or other of us might manage
to get away with Isabel.  Of course it's much more likely that we
shall all be killed, but if one chooses to mix oneself up in this
sort of insane business that is an objection which one must be
prepared to face."

He closed his lips tight in their customary precise line, and looked
round at the assembled company.

"Thank you, Guy," said Tony.  "That's just the sort of spirited
speech I should have expected from one of your aggressive character."
He paused.  "Now, Jimmy, what have you got to say?"

Jimmy rose solemnly to his feet.  "I have much pleasure," he
observed, "in seconding the proposal of our honourable friend.  I'm
for a forward policy every time."  He looked across the table.  "How
about the Reverend Mr. Monk?" he added.  "It seems to me we ought to
have asked his opinion first."

"I think," said Molly sweetly and clearly, "that it's just about the
silliest suggestion I ever heard."

Guy sat up suddenly in his chair, and Jimmy, who was still standing
on his feet, broke into another long chuckle of laughter.

Tony rapped the table gravely with a teaspoon.

"Order, please," he said, "order!  This is no time for misplaced
merriment."  He turned to Molly.  "Don't worry about Guy's feelings,"
he added kindly.  "Say exactly what you think."

"I'm going to," replied Molly with brisk determination.  "I'm awfully
sorry if I was rude to you, Mr. Oliver; but really you know your
plan's a rotter.  Do you suppose that even if we got to Valona, these
people would allow us to hang about there waiting for something to
happen?  Why, they would guess what we were up to the very moment
they spotted us."

"But we know the time, roughly," protested Jimmy.  "We could arrange
to reach the place just when the fighting started."

"And what then?" demanded Molly scornfully.  "Here you've got a large
party of armed men, who are cheerfully ready to murder a whole escort
in order to get hold of this girl.  Do you really imagine they are
going to let us waltz in and pick her up under their noses?  Not
likely!"

She stopped to take breath.

"I thought I had made it clear," remarked Guy a little chillingly,
"that I didn't regard the suggestion as a very safe or hopeful one."

"You did," said Molly, "but you didn't go half far enough.  It's a
dead certain frost from the very start.  We should just be committing
suicide without doing any good to anybody."

Guy shrugged his shoulders.  "I daresay you're right.  The
unfortunate point is that there's no alternative."

Molly leaned forward, her blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Yes, there is," she said quietly.

For an instant nobody spoke.

"Go on, Molly," said Tony.  "We are all listening to you."

"If we can get to Valona," said Molly, speaking in a rapid and eager
voice, "what is there to stop us getting to the other place--the
Château of Saint Anna?"

There was another and longer pause.

"Good Lord!" remarked Jimmy, and with this non-committal observation
he reseated himself at the table.

"Well?" continued Molly defiantly.  "We can't do anything without
running a big risk, so while we're about it we may just as well shove
all our money on the best chance."

"But surely," protested Guy, "if there is an utterly hopeless----"

"Let Molly explain," said Tony.  "We can criticize her afterwards."

Once again there was a brief silence.

"It's like this," said Molly.  "At the present moment, so far as we
know, there isn't a soul on Peter's side who has the remotest notion
that we're in Livadia.  That's our strongest card, and if we don't
play it for all it's worth we shall be simply chucking the game
away."  She wheeled round on Jimmy.  "Where is this Château,
exactly?" she asked.  "Can you get to it from here in your car
without going through Portriga or the other place--Valona?"

Jimmy nodded.  "We should turn off the main road up into the hills
about five miles from here.  The car would manage it all right, but
as for getting there--" he grinned cheerfully--"well, from what the
Colonel told Tony, I should think we had about as much chance as a
snowflake in hell."

"You needn't worry about that part of it," returned Molly coolly.
"So long as you know the road you can leave the rest to me."  She put
her hand into her breast pocket, and produced the thick and
impressive looking half sheet of note-paper, which she had shown Tony
in the flat.  "If that won't get us past a few soldiers," she added,
throwing it on the table, "we may as well turn the boat round now and
go straight home."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Tony.  "I believe you've got hold of the right
idea, Molly!"

Guy looked from one to the other of them in a sort of baffled
bewilderment.

"I may be very stupid," he said, "but I can't see in the least what
you hope to do even if we reach the Château."

Molly drew in a long breath.  "There's only one thing to do," she
said slowly.  "Somehow or other this Princess girl and I have got to
change places.  There's absolutely no other way in which we can
possibly work it."

If she had suddenly placed a live bomb upon the table, Guy's face
could hardly have assumed a more startled expression.  Even Jimmy,
who did not seem to be easily perturbed, remained staring at her for
a moment with his mouth open.

"Change places!" repeated Guy at last.  "Are you speaking seriously?"

"Of course I am," said Molly a little impatiently.  "Don't you see
how easily it could be done?  According to what you all tell me, this
girl and I are as like each other as two peas: but no one would guess
that if they'd only seen me in this rig-out.  Well, if I could get a
quarter of an hour alone with her, all we should have to do would be
to swap clothes, and then she could just walk out of the place
instead of me."  She swept a triumphant glance at the others.  "It's
a hundred to one nobody would notice the difference: not if she's got
the pluck and sense to carry it off properly."

"I can guarantee the pluck and the sense," said Tony.  "They are two
things in which Isabel happens to specialize rather deeply."

"But do you mean you are ready to stop behind in her place?"

It was Jimmy who put the question.

"Certainly I am," replied Molly.  "That's what I have come out here
for."

He gazed at her for a moment in voiceless admiration.

"My Lord, you've got some nerve," he said.  "What do you think will
happen to you?"

Molly smiled pleasantly.  "I think," she answered, "that I shall be
respectably and properly married to Peter in the Portriga Cathedral.
I don't see what the devil else they can afford to do.  They have got
to have a wedding, and as I'm quite ready to pretend that I'm the
Princess, and nobody's ever likely to contradict it, it seems to me
they'll jolly well have to make the best of it."

Tony laid down his cigarette and leaned back in his chair.

"Molly," he said, "you are as brilliant as you are beautiful.  I
don't believe there is any one else alive who could have thought of a
notion like that when they were full of eggs and bacon."

"It's a terrific idea," admitted Jimmy, still gazing respectfully at
the author.  "The one great difficulty will be to fix up this
interview between you and the Princess."

Molly nodded.  "I know," she said.  "I haven't got that part of it
clear yet.  You see the whole thing only came into my head quite
suddenly."

"That part of it," remarked Tony in his tranquil voice, "seems to me
delightfully simple and easy."

They all three turned towards him.

"We are personal friends of Peter's," he went on; "at least I am.  I
think I shall call myself Lord Haverstock.  It's a very nice title
and no one's taken it yet.  Do you think it suits me, Guy?"

"Oh, go on," exclaimed Guy impatiently.

"At Peter's suggestion," continued Tony, "I have accompanied him from
England in my own yacht, in order to be in at the death, so to speak.
Molly here is my chaplain.  All really respectable English peers
travel with a private chaplain."

He paused as if for confirmation.

"I've no doubt you're right," said Jimmy gravely, "but how does that
interesting fact help us?"

"Why, don't you see?  Isabel has been brought up with English ideas
about these sort of things, and it's surely only natural that she
should feel a little upset at the thought of being married so
suddenly, and without any of her old friends to help her.  She has
told Peter that if it was possible she would like to have a talk with
an English clergyman, and knowing that I have got the Reverend Mr.
Monk on board, Peter has suggested that I should take him along to
the Château.  Of course, for various reasons, he didn't want a fuss
made about it, so he has just given me his own private pass, and told
me to explain the rest to the Count of Saint Anna.  What could be
more beautifully simple and probable?"

Molly clapped her hands softly.  "Splendid, Tony!" she said.
"Absolutely splendid!"

"And suppose," remarked Guy in his depressingly matter-of-fact voice,
"that the first person we run into at the Château is Isabel's uncle
or the Marquis da Freitas or the King himself.  What's going to
happen then?"

"I don't know exactly," said Tony, "but I should say that in all
probability there will be the hell of a row."

"It's no good worrying about that," said Molly decisively.  "We've
got to chance something, and the odds are that all three of them will
be down in Portriga.  I imagine that that's why they've sent the girl
to this place--in order to have their hands free."

Tony nodded his agreement.  "There's a lot of hard work about running
a revolution," he observed.  "I shouldn't think they would be able to
spare anybody this morning."

Molly looked round at the other two.  "Well," she said, "Tony and I
have made up our minds at all events.  Are you ready to back us up?"

There was a pause.

"I will do anything I can," remarked Guy simply.

Jimmy leaned back and thrust his hands into his trouser pocket's.

"So will I, of course," he said.  "The only thing I don't like about
it is leaving you behind.  Suppose they turn nasty when they find
out?"

Molly smiled at him comfortingly.  "That's all right," she said.
"Peter has got his weak points, but if any one was to hurt the tip of
my little finger he would have the last drop of blood they've got.
Da Freitas knows that as well as I do."

"I'm glad to hear he appreciates you," said Jimmy with feeling.  "You
are much too good for him."  He hesitated.  "Look here," he added
suddenly, "suppose he's killed, suppose somebody shoots him--it's
quite possible you know--will you come back to England and marry me?"

Molly broke into a little ripple of silvery laughter.

"I daresay I might," she said.  "Anyhow, it's nice to have something
to fall back on in case one wants it."

"I hate to interrupt a really passionate love affair," observed Tony
apologetically, "but don't you think we ought to discuss our
arrangements--such as they are?  We haven't too much time to spare."

"Well, they're pretty straight sailing, aren't they?" replied Jimmy.
"There's plenty of petrol in the car, so all we've got to do is to go
ashore and start off."

"Who's we?" demanded Molly.  "You and I and Tony?"

"Can't I come too?" inquired Guy in a rather disappointed voice.
"I'm quite ready to do my share--whatever it is?"

Tony got up from where he was sitting and laid a sympathetic hand on
his cousin's shoulder..

"I know that, Guy," he aid.  "I know that you would cut the throats
of half Livadia if it would help Isabel in any way.  The point is
that we can't afford to do any fighting this trip.  We have got to
bring it off peacefully, if we bring it off at all, and it's quite
possible that the real danger will be at this end, and not at the
Château.  I told you what Saltero said about the police here.  Well,
don't you see, if they chose to interfere they might put the hat on
everything.  I want you to take charge while we're away, and whatever
happens--even if you have to murder every policeman in the
town--there must be a nice comfy boat awaiting us when we get back."

Guy nodded grimly.  "Very well," he said; "you can count on that, if
there're any of us left alive!"




CHAPTER XXII

GETTING ACCESS TO ISABEL

It was almost exactly half an hour later, when the _Betty's_ gig,
skilfully piloted by the second officer, drew up alongside the jetty.
Tony, Jimmy, and Molly scrambled out in turn--the latter carrying a
small prayer-book in her hand and lending a pleasant air of
respectability to the party.

Braxa still lay bathed in a rich tranquillity: the only other
occupants of the sun-warmed causeway being a couple of nondescript
gentlemen, who had been leaning over the low rail, watching the
approach of the boat and spitting thoughtfully into the sea.  These
two eyed the new arrivals with a certain languid curiosity, but
beyond that they betrayed no apparent interest in their proceedings.

"It's amazing to me," said Tony, looking round, "that any one could
have had the bad taste to start a revolution here.  It's like
brawling in a mortuary."

"Oh, you mustn't judge Livadia by this place," protested Jimmy.
"There are enough scoundrels in Portriga to make up for any shortage
elsewhere."  He took out a small rusty key from his pocket.  "Come
along," he added.  "If we hang about admiring the view we shall
probably have Saltero's policemen after us."

He led the way down the jetty towards a roughly built wooden shed
which stood a few yards back on the beach, and unfastening the
padlock, threw open the door.  Inside, amongst a medley of fishing
nets and other nautical obstructions, stood a large travel-stained
motor car with steel studded tyres.  It was evidently in good order,
for it started with the first pull up of the handle, and having
seated himself at the steering-wheel, Jimmy brought it deftly out on
to the hard beaten sandy track which ran up into the main road.

"One penny all the way," he observed encouragingly.  "Any more for
Chancery Lane or the Bank of England?"

Tony closed and locked the door of the shed.  "I shall sit behind
with you, Molly," he announced.  "Then we can hold hands under the
rug."

They settled themselves comfortably in the tonneau, and starting on
his second speed Jimmy shot off up the beach with surprising and
rather disconcerting velocity.

At the top of the track, where it joined the road, several of Braxa's
more energetic citizens were sheltering from the rays of the sun.  As
the car approached they all moved forward in a desultory fashion to
scan its occupants; and one of them, a stout gentleman in uniform,
with a sword trailing by his side, stepped out officiously into the
roadway and held up his hand.

If he was under the impression that his action would cause the car to
pull up, he must have been bitterly disappointed.  Without faltering,
or even slackening speed, its driver swerved round him at a distance
of about two inches, and left him shouting and gesticulating wildly
in the centre of a cloud of dun coloured dust.

A few yards further on, the road turned away inland, and as soon as
they had negotiated the corner, Jimmy glanced back over his shoulder.

"We've torn it now," he observed complacently.  "That was one of the
policemen."

Tony nodded.  "I thought it must be," he said.  "He looked so well
fed."

"Is there anything he can do?" inquired Molly; "except to try and
arrest the _Betty_?"

"He might send a message to Portriga asking for instructions,"
answered Jimmy.  "It all depends on whether he's got a suspicious
nature."

He turned back to concentrate his attention on the steering, for they
were passing through the main street of Braxa, and one or two small
carts, with sleepy-looking pairs of oxen attached to them, were
straggling amiably about the roadway.

"I'm sorry now that we didn't run over him," said Molly regretfully.

"We might go back and do it," replied Tony; "but I think on the whole
we had better trust to Providence.  If Providence is really with us
one policeman can't make very much difference."

This argument seemed to convince Molly, for she attempted no further
conversation until they were clear of the village, and travelling
rapidly along the sandy and ill kept road which ran northwards
towards Portriga.

Then, with a smile, she turned again towards Tony.

"I'm thinking of the ambush at Valona," she said.  "I hope it's a
nice comfortable one, because they'll have to stop there a long time
if they are going to wait for me."

Tony sat up suddenly in his seat.  "By Jove!" he said, slowly, "we
never settled that point, did we!  What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, if things turn out anything like right," returned Molly
cheerfully, "I shall simply tell the escort that they had better find
some other way of getting me into Portriga.  I don't want to be mixed
up in a free fight just before I'm married."  She laughed gently.  "I
should like to hear what Saltero says about you, Tony," she added.
"He'll shove everything down to your account, you know."

Tony nodded.  "I hate to treat him like this," he observed sadly,
"but it really can't be helped.  In a big crisis the lesser virtues
always have to give way to the greater."

"You must explain that to him," said Molly, "if you ever run up
against him again.  It will probably console him quite a lot."

By this time the last traces of Braxa were already some distance in
the rear, and the countryside had assumed that forlorn and neglected
aspect which forty years of misgovernment have so successfully
impressed upon the greater part of Northern Livadia.  Here and there
they came across an occasional peasant woman, slouching along under a
heavy burden: presumably carrying on the family business while her
lord and master was assisting to make history in the Capital.  With
these exceptions, however, the road was absolutely deserted, a fact
of which Jimmy took full advantage by pushing the car along at the
utmost limit of speed which the deplorable surface would permit.

The only relief to the monotonous landscape was the long range of
hills towards which they were steadily making their way.  These rose
sharply in the near distance against the cloudless blue sky, and
somewhere amongst them, as Tony knew, lay the Château of Saint Anna
and the goal of their expedition.

At last Jimmy slackened down, and looked round again from the driving
seat.

"You'd better get ready for trouble," he said.  "The turning's about
half a mile on from here, and it's a hundred to one they'll have a
patrol out at the corner."

Tony acknowledged the information with a reassuring wave of his hand;
while Molly, after settling herself into a decorous attitude, opened
her prayer-book at random and commenced to study "The Publick Baptism
of Infants" with a deep and absorbed interest.

Jimmy proceeded forward at the same leisurely pace, until, bit by
bit, the branch road that he had spoken of crept into view, turning
off to the right, and then winding its way up through the hills, like
a piece of yellowish ribbon dropped down carelessly from the sky.

At the point where it joined the main road stood a straggling coppice
of stunted oak trees.  To the unsuspicious eye there was nothing
about it to suggest the least danger; but quite suddenly, while the
car was still about a hundred yards distant, the apparently peaceful
prospect underwent a startling change.  With the crash and swirl of
breaking undergrowth, a number of uniformed figures scrambled out
hastily into the sunlight, and running forward with their rifles in
their hands, formed up into an irregular cordon across the roadway.

It was a well planned manoeuvre, for even if the occupants of the car
had wished to escape, it would have been practically impossible for
them to do so.  As it was Jimmy thrust on his brake and slowed down
immediately into a mere crawl.  Then turning round to Tony he
observed with an air of respectful apology: "I'm afraid we shall have
to pull up, Lord Haverstock.  I expect they have got the steam-roller
at work round the corner."

Before Tony could reply, a savage-looking gentleman, who appeared to
be an officer, detached himself from the rest, and barked out some
instruction in a hoarse and unintelligible voice, then followed by
several subordinates, all gripping their rifles ready for immediate
action, he strode rapidly forward towards the now stationary car.

Its three occupants awaited its approach with commendable dignity.
Jimmy sat stiff and upright, still holding the steering-wheel, Tony
lolled back in his seat with an air of slightly annoyed boredom,
while Molly, after one incurious glance at the situation, had resumed
her interrupted study of the Publick Baptism of Infants.

A few yards distant, the officer, who at closer quarters looked like
a rather dog's eared edition of Kaiser Wilhelm the Second, halted his
men in the roadway.  Then advancing by himself to the side of the
car, and dropping the point of his scabbard with a menacing clink on
the ground, he addressed himself to Jimmy.

As he spoke in Livadian, Tony was unable to follow what he said.
From his manner, however, it was pretty easy to guess that he was
demanding to know who they were and what business had brought them
into the neighbourhood.  It was also fairly plain that he had made up
his mind not to be trifled with, and that the first sign of any
attempt to escape, would be the signal for a volley of bullets from
the soldiers.

Jimmy listened in silence, until the harsh string of words which were
showered at his head had come to an end.  Then with a significant
glance at the soldiers he leaned towards his questioner, and made
some low reply in the same language.  It evidently had something to
do with the inadvisability of treating the matter to too public a
discussion, for after hesitating a moment, the officer wheeled round
and ordered his henchmen to withdraw three paces into the background.
Then, still looking extremely stern and suspicious, he turned back to
Jimmy.

Exactly what the latter said was of course as unintelligible to Tony
as the previous questions had been.  It was evident, however, from
the occasional introduction of such phrases as "Lord Haverstock of
London," and "the Château of Saint Anna," that he was telling the
story they had agreed upon in the yacht and judging by his manner he
was letting off this romantic fiction with the convincing
plausibility that one would expect from anybody who for several years
had been intimately connected with the motor trade.

Of its effect upon the officer there could be no doubt.  The
threatening hostility on his face gave way gradually to an expression
of surprise, not untinged with a certain dawning respect, and when he
spoke again it was in an altogether different if still slightly
suspicious tone.

For several minutes the dialogue continued its course, and then,
breaking off suddenly, Jimmy leaned back over the seat, and addressed
himself to Tony.

"This gentleman," he said, "is Major Paqueta of the King's army."

Tony inclined his head in the polite if somewhat haughty fashion of a
true English nobleman--a salute which Major Paqueta acknowledged by a
stiff military bow.

"He would like to have a look at the King's letter," continued Jimmy.
"I've explained the position to him, but he has orders not to allow
any one to pass this corner."

With a slight air of aristocratic condescension Tony took out the
document in question from his pocket and handed it to Jimmy, who in
turn passed it on to the Major.

The gallant soldier unfolded it and carefully scrutinized its
contents.  One could see from his face that he was deeply impressed,
but even so there were still distinct traces of doubt and hesitation
in his manner when he looked up and again addressed himself to Jimmy.

A brief discussion followed, and then once more the latter turned
round to explain.

"It's like this, Lord Haverstock.  Major Paqueta believes that the
letter is genuine, but his orders are very strict.  He says that if
we want to go on to the Château we must take him with us."

"Why, certainly," replied Tony without an instant's hesitation.
"Tell Major Paqueta that I shall be delighted, and that if he wishes
to return here we can give him a lift back.  At least," he added
drily, "I hope we shall be able to."

Jimmy passed on this communication--or at all events the first part
of it--and for a second time the Major clicked his heels and
genuflected stiffly.  Then after a word or two of apparent
explanation, he collected his three soldiers and proceeded up the
road as far as the corner, followed at a dignified pace by the car.
Here he handed over his command to a bloodthirsty-looking sergeant,
and having given the latter some careful instructions, clambered up
into the front seat alongside of Jimmy.

Turning down the branch road the now personally conducted expedition
sped along rapidly towards its goal.  There was little conversation,
for Jimmy was too occupied in avoiding the ruts to return anything
but the briefest answers to their new friend's occasional remarks,
while Molly, despite the jolting of the car, still remained buried in
her baptismal studies.  She looked up once at Tony, who winked at her
gravely, but this familiarity only met with a chilling clerical
reserve that did not encourage further advances.

About every half mile they came across small parties of soldiers,
patrolling the road, all of whom drew up across their path as they
approached.  On each occasion, however, the sight of Major Paqueta,
sitting up like a ramrod in the front seat, was sufficient to insure
their undisputed passage: that obliging gentleman being evidently the
senior officer in command of the district.

As the road gradually began its ascent into the hills, these patrols
increased in numbers, and Tony realized that Congosta's statement
about the difficulty of rushing the place by force was by no means an
exaggerated one.  A very small body of well-armed and determined men
could indeed have held the track against an army corps, for the great
rocky boulders that towered up on either hand afforded admirable
cover, and offered a ready means of blocking up the road if such a
course were rendered necessary.

At last, after about two miles of this upward progress, they came out
over the crest of a long narrow gorge, and with startling abruptness
the Château of Saint Anna suddenly swept into view.  It stood on the
summit of the next hill--a large castle-like looking building of
white stone, with a number of small attendant cottages straggling
down into the valley below.  It was not more than a mile distant, and
despite Tony's constitutional calmness a momentary thrill ran through
his heart as he gazed across the short intervening space which was
all that now separated him from Isabel.




CHAPTER XXIII

KIDNAPPING THE BRIDE

In a few minutes they were mounting the steep street which appeared
to be the only approach to the Château.  The route was plentifully
sprinkled with soldiers, and from the cottage doorways on either side
women and children watched the visitors go past with open-eyed
interest.  The sight of Major Paqueta on the front seat seemed still
to be a sufficient guarantee to everyone for their respectability;
and on they went through an avenue of salutes from the soldiers,
which Tony acknowledged by occasionally raising his hand with an
aristocratic languor that was extremely impressive.

It was not until they reached the main entrance to the Château--a big
stone archway spanned by a couple of iron gates--that any attempt was
made to arrest their progress.  At this point two armed sentries on
guard stepped forward with raised bayonets, and not wishing to run
any unnecessary risk of puncture, Jimmy at once brought the car to a
standstill.  Almost at the same moment a small door at the side was
opened and an officer in full uniform strode out into the roadway.

He saluted Major Paqueta, and for several moments the two of them
remained engaged in an animated conversation, the results of which
appeared to be distinctly satisfactory.  At all events, on an order
from the newcomer, the two big iron gates were pushed slowly open,
and with commendable care Jimmy steered his way in under the archway.

They found themselves in a large courtyard, surrounded on three sides
by various portions of the Château, and decorated in the centre by
the equestrian statue of a stout gentleman, brandishing a menacing
sword in the direction of Heaven.  Circling gracefully round this
atrocity, Jimmy drew up outside the entrance to the house--a couple
of big iron-studded doors, from which a flight of stone steps led
down to the gravel.

With the dignity becoming to his position, Major Paqueta descended
from the car.  Their arrival had evidently been observed, for as he
did so, one of the doors was opened from inside, and an
elderly-looking steward or butler, supported by two assistants,
appeared upon the threshold.

The Major stopped to make a remark or two in Livadian to Jimmy; then
with another formal and apparently apologetic bow to Tony, he mounted
the steps and was ushered into the house.

"He's gone to see who's at home," explained Jimmy, leaning his elbow
on the back of the seat.  "He says he won't keep us waiting long."

Tony nodded.  "We have done our bit," he observed philosophically.
"It's all up to Providence now."

Molly, who had closed her prayer-book, and was sitting beside him
with downcast eyes, squeezed his hand gently under the rug.

"Good luck, Tony," she said in a low voice; "just in case we don't
see each other again."

Before Tony could make any response the officer who had admitted them
through the gate appeared suddenly along the courtyard behind them,
and took up his position on the steps within earshot of where they
were sitting.  Tony, of course, did not know if he understood
English, but considering the somewhat delicate nature of their
position it seemed advisable to avoid any unnecessary risk.  He
therefore contented himself by returning Molly's squeeze, and in
tactful silence the three of them waited for the next development.

It was not long in arriving.  Once more the big portal swung back,
and Major Paqueta, with the pompous-looking steward in attendance,
came down the steps and addressed a few words to Jimmy.

The latter climbed down from his seat, and without waiting for the
assistance of the steward, opened the back door of the car.

"We are to go in," he announced with superb coolness.  "The Count of
Saint Anna is prepared to receive us."

Throwing back the rug, Tony and Molly followed him out, the latter
still keeping her eyes down, and holding the prayer-book before her
in a conspicuous position.

Preceded by the steward and Major Paqueta they ascended the steps,
and entered a lofty hall lit by a glass dome and set around with
marble pillars.  Behind these were a number of tall mahogany doors
leading into the various apartments.  On either side of one of them,
which was open, stood the two footmen in rigid immobility, and
between this expressionless pair of statues their guide conducted
them into a large, handsomely furnished room, where an elderly
gentleman in a frock-coat was standing by a writing-table, waiting to
receive them.

The Count of Saint Anna, for it was evidently their host who faced
them, bowed courteously at their entrance.  He was an amiable-looking
old boy with gold spectacles and a long white moustache carefully
waxed at the ends.  From this demeanour at all events there was no
hint of any hostility or suspicion towards his visitors, and Tony
felt a momentary wave of relief that since her arrival in Livadia
Isabel should have been in such apparently good-natured hands.

As soon as the door was closed the Count cleared his throat and
commenced to speak.

"Gentlemen," he observed in very painstaking English: "I have the
pleasure to make your knowledge.  Major Paqueta says that you carry a
letter from His Majesty the King, and that you wish to speak with me
privately on a matter of much importance."

Tony bowed, and stepping forward, again produced the invaluable scrap
of paper which had been returned to him by the Major.  The old
gentleman accepted it, and having adjusted his spectacles read it
through with extreme care.  The perusal could not really have
occupied him more than a minute, but to three of those present it
seemed to be the most prolonged and poignant minute ever extracted
from the womb of time.  At last, however, he looked up again, and
with infinite relief they saw that the charm had worked.

"I will speak with these gentlemen in private," he said, addressing
himself to Major Paqueta.  "This is undoubtedly the writing of His
Majesty."

It seemed from the Major's face as if he were slightly disappointed
by this abrupt dismissal, but like a true disciplinarian he accepted
the situation without remonstrance.  Bowing again stiffly, he wheeled
round and marched to the door and the next moment the four of them
were alone.

The Count motioned his guests to be seated.

"I understand," he said, "that there is one of you gentlemen who is
able to speak our language.  It would be best perhaps if he should
explain.  I have a small knowledge of English, but it is not good to
listen with."

Tony turned to Jimmy.  "Go ahead, James," he said encouragingly.
"Tell the Count of Saint Anna exactly what the King has asked us to
do."

With that easy assurance that had won him his chequered way through
the world, Jimmy set about his task.  He had one of those happily
constituted natures (so frequent amongst prominent statesmen and
successful men of business) which enables its possessor to become
automatically more convincing the further he departs from the truth.
Unintelligible as his actual words were to Tony, there was a ring of
sincerity about them which filled the latter with intense admiration,
and made him feel that much as he had always appreciated Jimmy, he
had up till that moment failed to do him complete justice.

The Count on his part appeared to be deeply impressed.  He followed
Jimmy's trail of lies with the closest attention, occasionally
interjecting a question, and nodding his head with grave satisfaction
over the answers that were immediately forthcoming.  It was an
entertaining spectacle, and but for the stake at issue, and an
uncomfortable sensation that every minute added to their danger, Tony
would have felt quite sorry when it came to an end.

Throughout the recital Molly remained very unobtrusively in the
background.  She had seated herself in the darkest corner of the
room, and with her eyes fixed steadily on the carpet, she appeared to
be wholly absorbed in some form of inward meditation.

There was a moment's pause when Jimmy had finished, and then, with a
final and decisive nod, the Count rose to his feet.

"My friends," he said in English, "you have indeed done a great
service to His Majesty.  You have also my own gratitude.  I do not
hide from you that it has been of much distress to me that the
Princess Isabella is not more happy.  If to speak with this good
gentleman will be of comfort to her, that is indeed all that we
should wish.  I will myself take him to her presence."

It was an exhilarating moment, but all three of them managed to
preserve their self-control.  With extreme gravity Molly got up from
her seat and moved quietly in the direction of the door, Tony and
Jimmy also rising and acknowledging the Count's speech with a couple
of polite bows.

"In a minute I shall rejoin you," added the latter.  "In the
meanwhile I trust that you will regard this poor apartment as your
own."

He crossed the room and opened the door politely for Molly who, still
clasping her prayer-book in front of her, passed solemnly through
into the hall.  The Count paused for an instant on the threshold to
return the salutations of his guests, and then following her out,
closed the doors behind them.

Jimmy pulled out a handkerchief and softly pressed it to his forehead.

"Holy Moses!" he whispered.  "If Ananias hasn't turned in his grave
he's the most unjealous blighter who ever lived."

"You were wonderful, James," said Tony, with a genuine reverence in
his voice.  "I think we shall have to change the idea of running our
garage on honest lines.  It would be a sheer waste of genius."

"We needn't worry about that yet," retorted Jimmy.  "We have got to
get out of this hole first.  I don't know what you think, but it
seems to me that our part of the business was child's play compared
with that those two girls have got to tackle."

"They'll do it," replied Tony confidently.  "I've the most perfect
faith in Molly."

Jimmy took a deep breath.  "She's great--magnificent," he said.
"There isn't a woman in the world to touch her.  She'll do her part
all right, but it's the other one I'm thinking about.  How can one
expect a young girl who's no experience of acting to bring off a job
like this?"

"Ah!" said Tony.  "You don't know Isabel."

He walked to the writing-desk, and stood for an instant looking down
at the open blotting-book.

"I wonder if the Count would mind my using his paper and envelopes,"
he added meditatively.  "I think this would be rather a good
opportunity of answering Da Freitas' letter."

"Oh, go on," said Jimmy with a chuckle.  "That will be all right.  He
told us to look on the place as our own."

Tony seated himself at the desk, and taking out his fountain pen
pulled a sheet of paper towards him.  He paused to reflect for a few
moments, and then dating the letter with the exact hour, began to
write, slowly and deliberately.

He had not covered more than half a page, when the door opened and
the Count of Saint Anna came back into the room.

"I have taken your friend in to the Princess," he said.  "She was
surprised, as you would expect, but I think it will make her happy to
speak with him.  I return to bring him back in a little while.  You
gentlemen will do me the honour of lunching with me, as soon as their
talk is finished?"

Tony, who had got up from his chair, shook his head.

"Thank you very much, Count," he said, "but I'm afraid we shall have
to start back as quick as we can.  The fact is I have got an
appointment with the English Ambassador.  He is coming to lunch with
me on my yacht."

He brought out this impromptu falsehood with such perfect readiness
that even Jimmy was momentarily staggered.

"Ah!" said the Count.  "I am sorry.  If you could have waited it is
possible that you would have had the pleasure to meet the Count de
Sé.  We are expecting him at any time now.  He is, as you know, to
take the Princess to Portriga."

"What a pity!" replied Tony regretfully.  "I should love to have had
a chat with him if we could have managed it."  He paused.  "By the
way," he added, "I hope you don't mind my making free with your
property like this.  I was just writing a line to my friend the
Marquis da Freitas.  I daresay the Count de Sé would take it with him
when he goes in."

The old gentleman spread out his hands in a reassuring gesture.

"Señor," he said, "please to continue.  All that I have in this poor
house is at your disposal."

Taking him at his word, Tony resumed his seat at the desk, while
Jimmy, with some opportune remark in Livadian, promptly withdrew
their host to the further side of the room.

Continuing to write with extreme deliberation, Tony finished his
letter, which occupied exactly two sides of the note-paper.  Then he
blotted it, and sitting back in his chair, read it through carefully
before folding it up.


  Tuesday,      THE CHATEAU OF SAINT ANNA,
  11.53 A.M.            Somewhere in Livadia.

MY DEAR MARQUIS:

It was very kind of you to write and say good-bye, as I don't suppose
you had much time to spare your last day in England.

I am more than sorry that I haven't been able to look you up and
thank you personally during this flying visit of ours to your
beautiful and exciting country.  You, I feel certain, will share this
regret, but your admirable philosophy will doubtless enable you to
make the best of it.  Making the best of unfortunate situations is
the real secret of a happy and successful life.

May I add that you can always rely on us for the most perfect
discretion with regard to any secrets that we happen to share in
common.  I shall consider it a great kindness if you will convey to
His Majesty my truest congratulations on his marriage, of which,
under the circumstances, I feel quite sure you will thoroughly
approve.

Wishing you the best of success in your patriotic efforts on behalf
of Livadia,

  I am, my dear Marquis,
        Your sincere admirer,
            ANTONY CONWAY.

P.S. You were quite right about the proverb.  Ha!  Ha!


Having enclosed this in an envelope and addressed it, Tony got up
from his chair and handed it to the Count.

"I shall be much obliged if you will give that to De Sé," he said.
"I want the Marquis to get it as soon as possible and I expect your
postal arrangements are a bit disorganized."

The Count shrugged his shoulders.

"All is confusion for the moment," he admitted, "but I trust that by
Monday we may hope for better things.  So soon as the King is married
there will be no more fighting."

He put the letter away carefully in his inside pocket, and for a few
minutes continued to discourse on the revolution and its possible
developments.  It was quite evident that he shared Colonel Saltero's
opinion as to the immediate effect of the coming ceremony, and that
he looked forward to the future with a complete and touching
confidence.

At last, again adjusting his spectacles, which had a habit of
slipping down his nose, he glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece.

"I think," he said "that I might now return to the Princess.  It was,
I understand, for twenty minutes that your good friend wished to
speak with her."

"Perhaps it would be as well," said Tony reluctantly.  "I hate to
rush away like this, but we really ought to get back as soon as
possible.  I don't want to keep the Ambassador waiting."

They moved together towards the door, and as Tony opened it he added:
"I should like to take the chance of having a look at your hall
pillars if I may.  I never saw finer marble in my life."

A gratified smile lit up the Count's features.  "It is considered a
not unfavourable example of our architecture," he said.  "I am
honoured that it should meet with your approval."

He conducted them outside, and after again apologizing for leaving
them, mounted the broad staircase and disappeared from view along the
gallery above.

For a moment Tony and Jimmy remained standing where they were,
apparently lost in admiration.  One glance round, however, had shown
both of them all that they really wished to see.  Through the partly
open front door they had caught a glimpse of Major Paqueta and the
other officer engaged in conversation on the steps, while a faint but
clearly audible ticking below told them that the faithful car was
still in the same position where they had left it.

"We might be able to manage it," whispered Jimmy; "even if there's a
hitch at the last moment."

"There'll be no hitch," replied Tony gently.  "Put your trust in
Providence, Jimmy, and admire the hall."

He strolled placidly round from pillar to pillar, examining the
carving at the base of each, and occasionally patting one with his
hand, as if to express his approbation.  Jimmy accompanied him,
sauntering along with equal nonchalance, and puffing at a cigarette
which he had lighted while talking to the Count.

They were just completing the circuit and were within a few feet of
the door, when a sudden sound above brought them to a halt.  They
both looked up, and as they did so two people appeared at the head of
the staircase.

One was the Count, coming down with his hand on the banisters, and
talking away affably in his indifferent English.

The other----

Standing where he was, Tony stared up at the slim black-coated
figure, that with prayer-book in hand and lowered eyes was descending
the staircase alongside of their host.  The likeness to Molly as he
had last seen her was so amazing that for just one numbing instant a
horrible fear that she had failed gripped him by the heart.

Then--somehow or other--he knew--knew beyond any shadow of doubt that
it was Isabel herself.  All his coolness returned to him instantly,
and drawing in a deep, delicious breath he stepped forward to meet
them.

"His Majesty will be very grateful to you," said the Count in a low
voice.  "I am happy to say that the kindness and sympathy of this
good gentleman have been of much comfort to the Princess.  She is
like a different person.'

"I have no doubt she is," replied Tony heartily.  "I know from
experience that a talk with Mr. Monk always makes one feel better and
happier."  He held out his hand.  "Good-bye, Count," he added, "and
thank you again so much for your kindness."

The Count shook hands warmly with all three of them.

"It has been a privilege to make your friendship," he replied.  "But
I will not say 'good-bye.'  It is possible, I hope, that you will be
returning here before long."

"It is," admitted Tony, "distinctly."

"And when you come," continued their host, shaking his finger
playfully, "I shall not permit you to leave us a second time in so
great a hurry."

Tony smiled, and again wrung his hand.  "I am sure of that, Count,"
he said; "quite sure of it."

They walked to the doors, which had been thrown back by the steward,
who had suddenly reappeared upon the scene, and passed out once more
into the sunshine and freedom of the open air.

Isabel did not waste any time.  Without looking to the right or left,
she stepped up quietly into the tonneau, and getting in after her
Tony settled himself between her and the steps.  With almost equal
promptness Jimmy and the Major took their places in front.  There was
a farewell wave from the Count and the other officer, a sputtering of
gravel as the wheels commenced to revolve, and the next moment the
car was circling again round the stout gentleman with the sword, and
heading gaily towards the archway.

Tony's sensations, as he found himself once more slipping past the
open cottage doors, were so radiantly exhilarating that it was all he
could do to keep them under control.  Indeed, but for the fact that
his right hand was clasping Isabel's left under the rug, and that the
other was temporarily occupied in returning the salutes of the
soldiers by the roadside, he felt that the temptation to throw his
arms round Major Paqueta's neck would have been utterly irresistible.

The necessity for silence--always a difficult virtue in his case--did
not tend to make the struggle any easier.  A dozen questions were
trembling on his tongue, but apart from the fact that Jimmy was
driving at a pace which would have rendered anything but shouting
absolutely useless, he knew it would be stark madness for Isabel to
begin talking until they had succeeded in ridding themselves of their
passenger.  So with splendid if painful self-control he sat mutely
beside her, while steadily gathering speed, the car swept up the
opposite hillside and plunged joyously out of sight of the Château
into the narrow gorge above.

With the exception of slowing down occasionally as he passed the
various patrols, Jimmy pushed along in such an animated fashion that
in what seemed to be an amazingly short time they had again descended
from the high ground, and were racing back along the winding valley
which led into the main road.  As they came in sight of the thicket
where they had first had the privilege of making Major Paqueta's
acquaintance, two or three of the latter's soldiers, who were
evidently on the watch, came hurrying out from amongst the trees.
Seeing that it was their leader returning they formed up promptly
into some kind of order, and putting on his brakes, Jimmy brought the
car to a halt a dozen paces or so from where they were standing.

With a few words, apparently expressive of his thanks, the Major
climbed down into the roadway.  Then, drawing himself up, he bowed
twice--once to Tony and once to Isabel: a polite attention which they
both returned as gracefully as their somewhat cramped circumstances
would allow.  At the same moment Jimmy thrust in his clutch, and
lurching forward again, the car swung rapidly round the corner on to
the main Braxa road.

A few hundred yards from the wood Tony's self-control was unable to
hold out any longer.  Throwing back the rug he lifted up Isabel's
hand, and regardless as to whether any one could see him or not,
pressed it recklessly and joyously to his lips.

With a little gasp she laid her other hand upon his sleeve.

"Oh, say it's true, Tony.  Tell me it's really true!"

Her words were almost carried away by the wind, for sublimely
indifferent to the ruts Jimmy had let the car out to its fullest
extent, and they were racing and bounding along in a fashion which
would have done credit to a high-spirited chamois.

With a glad laugh Tony put his arm round her and drew her close up
against him.

"It's the truest thing that's ever happened," he answered.  "You are
mine now, Isabel--mine, mine, mine; and all the fat-headed Kings in
Europe will never get you away from me again."

Satisfied apparently with what she could hear of his statement,
Isabel made no attempt to reply.  With her eyes half-closed she
leaned against his shoulder, swaying with the movement of the car and
holding tight to his hand like a tired but contented child.

"Were you going to marry him?" demanded Tony abruptly, as a worse bit
of road than usual caused a momentary slackening in the pace.

She opened her eyes and nodded.  "Uncle Philip told me that they had
got hold of you too, and that if I didn't do it they would punish you
horribly, somehow or other.  I meant to kill myself directly I knew
you were safe."

The arm with which Tony was holding her tightened a little in its
grip.

"If ever I meet Uncle Phil again," he remarked slowly, "he'll run up
against something considerably harder than Richmond Park."

A fresh plunge forward on the part of the car rendered any further
conversation temporarily impossible, and for the next quarter of an
hour they spun along in the same buoyant fashion, while the red roofs
of Braxa, which were now visible in the distance, grew plainer and
plainer every minute.

Some way short of the straggling outskirts Jimmy again checked his
speed, and pulling into the side of the road came to a sudden and
unexpected halt.

"How d'you do, Isabel," he observed, looking round over his shoulder.
"Glad to meet you."  Then addressing himself to her companion, he
added: "What's your notion about things, Tony?  I think myself we'd
better make a dash for it.  Run slap through the town and straight
down on to the landing stage.  I suppose the boat will be there all
right."

Tony nodded.  "One can always depend upon Guy," he said.  "But how
about the car?  What are you going to do with that?"

"Scrap it," replied Jimmy.  "Leave it on the quay.  It doesn't belong
to me you know, it belongs to the garage.  I've got all my earthly
possessions in my pocket."

"Right away then," said Tony, "and don't stop for anything."  He
turned to Isabel.  "You won't be frightened if we have to run over a
few policemen," he said.  "It's just possible they may be on the
lookout for us."

Isabel shook her head.  "I don't mind," she said firmly.  "Not in the
least."

"Well, look out for squalls," remarked Jimmy cheerfully.  "It's neck
or nothing now."

He pulled his Homburg hat on tighter and started off again down the
road, which stretched out ahead of them bare and dusty in the blazing
midday sunshine.

Peaceful as Braxa had seemed when they had passed through it earlier
in the morning, it was at this hour even more deserted than before.
The heat of the sun seemed to have driven such people as were about
into the shelter of the wine shops, and except for a few
unhappy-looking dogs, rummaging amongst the garbage, a deep,
languorous tranquillity brooded over everything.

They raced up the main street at a pace which sent the dust flying in
clouds on either side of them; and without sounding their horn or
otherwise announcing their approach, they swept round the corner into
the big open space where they had had their previous encounter with
the policeman.  They were half-way across, and were heading straight
for the track that led down on to the beach, when the drowsy silence
of the square was suddenly disturbed by a hoarse shout on the left.
Tony glanced round in the direction of the sound, and was rewarded by
the sight of two uniformed figures hurrying out from the shadow of
the trees, and running and stumbling towards them with loud and
peremptory cries.

"You're too late," he observed placidly.  "Go on, Jimmy."

As he spoke the car shot up the slight incline which hitherto shut
out the beach from view and at the same moment a half stifled
exclamation broke simultaneously from all three of its occupants.
Right across the track, in such a position as to shut out any
possibility of passing it, stood a big clumsy ox-cart, half full of
sand.  Some yards further on they could see the driver chatting
affably to a couple of fishermen, but even if he had wished to help
them, he was too far away to be of any use.

Under the circumstances Jimmy did the only thing that could possibly
have saved them.  Thrusting out his clutch, he flung the wheel hard
over to the right, and with a wild swirl the car left the track, and
plunging forward into the soft sand at the side, came to a
staggeringly abrupt standstill.

Despite the shock, Tony had opened the door and was out on the beach
almost before the wheels had ceased to revolve.

"Come along," he said coolly; "plenty of time."

But for one fact, it is probable that his statement would have proved
true.  This fact unfortunately just made all the difference.  The
sudden stoppage had flung Jimmy forward with such force against the
steering-wheel that all the breath had been knocked clean out of his
body, and for the moment he was as completely helpless as any human
being could possibly be.

Seeing what had happened, Tony darted round to the other side of the
car, and catching him in his arms, lifted him bodily out of the seat.
Even while he was doing so, the first paralysing effects of the blow
began to wear off; but the delay--brief as it had been--was quite
long enough to bring about disaster.

Already the pursuing policemen had come racing up over the rise
behind, and were bawling out frantic instructions to the driver of
the cart and the two fishermen who were with him.  Thunderstruck as
the latter seemed to be, they yet retained sufficient intelligence to
grasp the fact that they were being called upon to assist the law.
For a second only they hesitated; then with a simultaneous movement,
they lumbered forward up the beach, and true to the voice of duty,
rushed in upon their quarry.

The next minute was probably the busiest in Tony's life.  Letting go
of Jimmy, he sprang forward to meet the first of their assailants--a
big black-bearded fellow, who had slightly out-distanced the others.
The man dived for his body, but swinging up his left with a terrific
jolt Tony caught him full in the face, and sent him sprawling over on
the sand.  Then, just in the nick of time, he turned to meet the
driver of the cart.  There was no chance of repeating his former
tactics, for the sheer weight of the latter's rush had brought him
into close quarters, and the next instant they were swaying up and
down, clutched in each other's arms.

At any ordinary time they would have been a very well matched pair,
but the desperation of the moment had filled Tony with a kind of wild
madness that seemed almost to have doubled his strength.  Wrenching
his right arm free he drove his fist deep into his opponent's midriff
with the force of a piston-rod.  The man's legs shut up under him
like a clasp-knife--down he went in a gurgling heap, dragging Tony
with him in his fall.

The latter was up again almost immediately, but his first glance
round showed him the hopelessness of the situation.  Racing down the
slope with all possible speed, the two policemen had already reached
the scene of action.  One of them was rushing towards him with a
drawn sword, and yelling to him to surrender, while the other was
dodging round the car in pursuit of Isabel.

At that moment, just when everything seemed to be lost, a violent
"bang" from behind burst suddenly on Tony's ear.  He spun round
instinctively--and there, fifteen yards away, was the Heaven-sent
figure of "Tiger" Bugg, leaping up the beach with the speed and fury
of an avenging angel.  A few paces in the rear stood Guy Oliver,
hatless, perspiring, and with a smoking revolver levelled in his hand.

Even as Tony turned there came a second spurt of flame.  He felt the
bullet whistle past him, and almost simultaneously an agonized yelp
of pain showed that it had found its mark.  He swung round again
instantly, just in time to see the onrushing policeman drop his
sword, and stagger back a couple of paces with his left hand clasped
to his shoulder.

Disregarding everything else Tony flung himself to the rescue of
Isabel.  At the sound of the second shot, the man who was chasing her
had pulled up abruptly in his tracks, apparently debating whether,
under the new circumstances, discretion was not the better part of
valour.  Before he could make up his mind Tony was on him.  He flung
up his arms to defend himself, but a smashing left in the throat
toppled him over like a pole-axed bullock, the back of his head
coming in violent contact with the radiator, and thus completing his
discomfiture.

Panting, and quite unable to speak, Isabel leaned against the side of
the car.

"It's all over," said Tony cheerfully, and slipping his arm gently
round her, he bent down and kissed her.  "I'll carry you to the
boat," he added.

She made some inaudible protest, but without paying any attention he
picked her up in his arms and turned towards the quay.

It was a stricken field that met his gaze, but all danger was
apparently over.  With Bugg's assistance Jimmy was just struggling to
his feet, while his late assailant, stretched out full length on the
sand beside him, seemed to have given up any further interest in the
proceedings.  On the right, still clutching his revolver, Guy stood
on guard over the remainder of the enemies, none of them, however,
appeared to be in any condition to interfere.

He glanced up with a white and eager face as Tony strode forward,
carrying Isabel in his arms.

"Is she all right?" he gasped breathlessly.

Tony gave him a reassuring nod.  "We are both in the best of health,
thank you, Guy," he said.  "How about the boat?"

Guy took a deep breath.  "You'll find the boat there," he said,
pointing towards the jetty.  "Get on board as quick as you can.  Bugg
and I will bring Dale along."

Without further remark, Tony hurried on down the beach, and passed in
between the two wooden posts which marked the entrance to the rough
stone causeway.  A few yards ahead of him stood the Captain of the
_Betty_ holding the gig's painter in his hand.  In the boat below a
couple of sailors were ready at their oars.

"Hello, skipper!" exclaimed Tony.  "How nice of you to have come
yourself!  I hope we haven't kept you waiting."

As he spoke he gently lowered Isabel to her feet, and supporting her
with one hand, held out the other to Captain Simmons.

The sailor gripped it in his huge brown paw.

"Thank God, you're safe, Sir Antony," he exclaimed heartily.  "I'd
have given anything to be able to lend a hand, but I didn't dare
leave the boat.  We'd have been done if they'd cut us off."

"Oh, we didn't want any more help," said Tony laughing.  "The whole
beach is littered with corpses as it is."  He paused.  "Let me
introduce you to Miss Francis," he ended, "the lady I'm going to
marry."

For a moment the skipper stared at Isabel in dumb amazement: then
with that readiness in emergency which always distinguishes the
British sailor, he took off his cap and made her an abrupt bow.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss," he remarked huskily.

At that instant through the entrance to the jetty appeared the
dishevelled figure of Jimmy limping cheerfully along between Guy and
Bugg.

"Here come the others," said Tony.  "We'd better get aboard before
there's any more trouble."  He dropped down into the boat, and
steadied himself in the stern.  "You pass Miss Francis down to me,
will you, skipper?"

Like a man in a dream, but with the most respectful and solicitous
care Captain Simmons lifted up Isabel and lowered her gently into
Tony's arms.  As her feet touched the planks Bugg, Guy, and Jimmy
appeared on the causeway above, and the next moment they too were
scrambling hastily down into their places.  Captain Simmons followed
with the painter.

"Let her go," he exclaimed curtly.

The two sailors swung back together, and with a steady gliding motion
the boat drew away from the strenuous shores of Livadia into the blue
waters of the sunlit bay.




CHAPTER XXIV

MAKING SURE OF ISABEL

For the second time that morning Lady Jocelyn opened the _Daily Mail_
and adjusting her glasses bent over the centre column with its
staring and heavily leaded headlines.


  AMAZING DEVELOPMENT IN LIVADIA

  KING PEDRO MARRIED TO THE PRINCESS
  ISABELLA

  THE CIVIL WAR ENDED

In Saturday's issue we were able to give our readers the exclusive
information that King Pedro and the ex-prime minister of Livadia, the
Marquis da Freitas, had landed in Portriga.

Our well informed special correspondent, who transmitted the news,
hinted also that within a short time we might expect to hear of some
dramatic developments in the situation.  The correctness of his
forecast has been amply demonstrated in a further and lengthy message
received late last night; a message which conveys the striking
information that King Pedro and his rival claimant to the throne, the
beautiful daughter of the late Don Francisco, were married on Sunday
morning in the Cathedral at Portriga.

The situation from the political point of view is dealt with fully in
our leading article.  We feel certain, however, that all readers of
the _Daily Mail_ will join in congratulating the Royal and happy pair
upon their romantic union.

During his residence amongst us King Pedro has given many proofs of
the manly and democratic spirit by which he is animated, and we share
our correspondent's hope that under his rule and that of his fair and
youthful consort, our old established allies--the Livadian
people--will enter upon a long era of peace and prosperity.

From our Special Correspondent.


PORTRIGA, Sunday night.

Today has been the most dramatic day in the whole history of Livadia.
Within an hour of my sending off my last message (since when I have
been unable to communicate) a number of posters and bills began to
make their appearance all over the town, announcing that on Sunday
morning King Pedro would be married to the Princess Isabella, the
beautiful and rather mysterious daughter of the late Pretender, of
whose whereabouts very few even of her own supporters seemed to have
any definite knowledge.

With great difficulty, and only through the kind assistance of Mr.
Watson the British Consul, I managed to obtain an interview with
General Almaida.  The latter, who appeared to be in a state of
considerable agitation, declared the report to be a deliberate canard
set about by the King's supporters.

Further inquiries, however, led me to the conclusion that the
Princess was actually in the hands of the Royalists, and that having
been won over by the King's courtesy and charm of manner, she had
agreed to the marriage as the natural and happy solution of their
rival claims.  The truth of this view was soon demonstrated.

At an early hour on Sunday morning, all the foreign correspondents in
Portriga received an official invitation to the Cathedral, the
approaches to which were held in considerable force by the King's
troops.  The ceremony, which was originally announced for twelve
o'clock, did not take place until nearly one-thirty, owing I believe
to a final attempt on the part of General Almaida to break through
into the centre of the town.  His belated effort was easily
frustrated, as a large number of his followers had already laid down
their arms, recognizing the hopelessness of their position.

The marriage rites, which were performed by the aged Bishop of
Portriga, were carried through with considerable state.  Except for a
momentary interruption half through the service, the authors of which
were promptly arrested and conveyed from the Cathedral, the ceremony
proceeded along its course without any untoward incident.  On leaving
the building the Royal Pair were greeted with the utmost enthusiasm
by a large and apparently well contented crowd and drove in state to
the ancient palace of St. Peter, where from time immemorial the
ruling house of Livadia have been accustomed to reside.

The new Queen of Livadia is a young girl of remarkable beauty--not
unlike an Englishwoman in appearance.  She has a wealth of that
wonderful auburn hair, which is frequently to be met with in the
Southern provinces of Livadia, and throughout the ceremony she
conducted herself with a grace and dignity that won the admiration of
all beholders.

It is not difficult to believe that under its young and happily
endowed rulers, who will be guided by that experienced statesman the
Marquis da Freitas, the country will soon recover from the troublous
times through which it has been recently passing.


Having read so far, Lady Jocelyn laid down the paper, and leaned back
against the sofa.  For a minute or so she remained there motionless,
gazing straight out in front of her with an expression such as few
people had ever seen upon her naturally shrewd and cheerful face.

At last, with a faint sigh, she picked up the paper again, and stared
once more at the blatant headlines.

"Oh, my poor Tony," she said softly to herself.  "My poor dear boy!"

The words had hardly left her lips when the noise of a motor pulling
up outside came in plainly through the open window.  A moment later
the front door bell pealed loudly.

Lady Jocelyn got up, and walking slowly to the door intercepted the
maid who was in the act of crossing the landing.

"I am not at home, Ellen," she said, "unless it's Mr. Henry Conway.
I am expecting him, so you can bring him straight upstairs."

"Yes, M'lady," murmured the girl sympathetically.

All Lady Jocelyn's servants adored her, and although to them Isabel's
abrupt disappearance was still a complete mystery, they were very
troubled and upset at the obvious effect which it had produced upon
their mistress.

Walking back across the room Lady Jocelyn had just reached her former
seat, when a sudden sound of voices in the hall below made her pause
abruptly.  An exclamation escaped from her lips, and with an
unconscious movement she stretched out her arm and caught hold of the
back of the sofa to steady herself.  The next moment footsteps came
scrambling up the stairs, and forgetful of all her professional
training, Ellen burst wildly into the room, her round face shining
with excitement.

"Oh, M'lady!  It's Miss Isabel and Sir Antony, M'lady--and--and Mr.
Oliver."

Even as she spoke the first-named couple appeared in the doorway, and
with a little glad cry, Lady Jocelyn stepped forward, holding out her
hands.

"Tony!  Isabel!" she whispered; then as they hurried towards her, and
each threw their arms round her, she added, half laughing, half
crying: "Oh, you dear, bad children!  How you've frightened me!"

In the middle of their embrace, Guy Oliver followed them into the
room.  With the exception of a slight trace of sunburn he looked as
sedate and respectable as ever; indeed the thought of him standing on
a blood-stained beach blazing away with a revolver seemed like the
wildest fancy of an imaginative dipsomaniac.

"We only landed at Southampton early this morning," explained Tony
penitently; "and I couldn't spoil things by telegraphing."

At this point Ellen, who had been standing contemplating the scene
with the frankest curiosity, suddenly woke up to a realization of her
professional lapse.  With a reluctant sigh she withdrew noiselessly
from the room, closing the door behind her, and dashed off downstairs
to communicate the exciting tidings to her fellow-servants.

With their arms round Lady Jocelyn, Tony and Isabel conducted her
gently to the sofa, and seated themselves one on each side of her.
Guy took his place in an armchair facing them.

"You must forgive me, Guy," said Lady Jocelyn.  "I am so happy and
excited I haven't even said how do you do, and I'm sure it's all
through you that I have got my mad children back alive and well."

"Of course it is," exclaimed Tony.  "If Guy hadn't waded in and
slaughtered half the Livadian police force on the beach, we shouldn't
have had a dog's chance of getting clear.  Isn't that so, Isabel?"

Isabel nodded.  "He was very brave," she said gratefully.  "I shall
never forget how fierce and splendid he looked."

Poor Guy's face turned a vivid crimson.

"I wish I had seen him," remarked Lady Jocelyn, with considerable
regret in her voice; "but it seems to me we are beginning at the
wrong end."  She stooped forward and picked up the _Daily Mail_,
which had fallen to the floor.  "Look at that," she added, pointing
to the headlines, "and for pity's sake tell me what it all means."

"I've seen it," said Tony.  "It means that even Lord Northcliffe may
be deceived at times."  He paused.  "I didn't tell you quite
everything before we started, Aunt Fanny.  I had some silly idea it
might worry you."

"Never mind," said Lady Jocelyn generously.  "If you will make up for
it now, I think I might manage to forgive you."

She took Isabel's slim hand in hers and leaned back against the sofa.

"I'll try," said Tony gravely; "but Guy and Isabel will have to help.
It's the sort of story that requires at least three strong people, if
one wants to tell it properly."

The incompleteness of his previous confidences had of course lain in
the fact that hitherto he had omitted all mention of the leading rôle
played by Molly during the latter stages of the proceedings.  Going
back now to the point at which she had first told him of her secret
marriage to Pedro, he described in full detail how the main idea of a
possible rescue had originated with her, and the daring and skilful
manner in which she had thrown herself into the scheme.

He gave a rapid account of their run down through the night to
Southampton, and of how--thanks to McEwen--they had managed to reach
Portriga in a time for which the nominal horse-power of the _Betty's_
engines failed to convey any adequate explanation.

Then, after describing the respective arrivals on board of Jimmy and
Colonel Saltero, he went on to explain how they had all come to a
unanimous decision that in a raid on the Château of Saint Anna lay
their only possible chance of success.  With an account of that
immortal drive and of their experiences in the Château he at length
brought the story down to the moment when Molly and the Count had
retired upstairs to administer spiritual consolation to the Princess
Isabella.

At this point he paused.

"I think that's about my share," he observed unselfishly.  "You go on
now, Isabel; tell Aunt Fanny the rest of it."

Lady Jocelyn, who had been listening to him with an expression of
entranced interest, sat upright in her seat, still holding Isabel's
hand.

"What an amazing and delightful person this Molly Monk must be!" she
exclaimed.  "And to think that she is the granddaughter of old Monk
at the Lodge!  I always said there was something extraordinarily
bracing in the Helbeck air."

"I think she must be the bravest and cleverest girl that ever lived,"
said Isabel with shining eyes.  "You know I hadn't the faintest
suspicion that she wasn't a real clergyman until the Count had gone
out of the room.  You can't imagine what I felt like when she
suddenly bolted the door and began to talk to me.  I was so
astonished at first that I don't believe I could have done anything
by myself, but she was as cool and quiet about it all as if it was
just the most ordinary thing in the world.  All the time she was
talking she was making me change clothes with her, and by the time we
had got into each other's things I didn't feel frightened or stupid
any longer.

"Then, while she was doing up my hair and putting on my wig, she
began to ask me questions--whether I spoke to the Count in English
(which I always had done)--how I behaved as a rule when he came into
the room--and, and other things of that sort.  I tried to answer as
well as I could, and you can't think how quick and clever she was at
understanding.  She made me walk about and sit down and talk to her,
and by the time she had finished dressing herself and had done her
hair like mine, she was able to imitate me so exactly that I could
hardly believe it was real.

"We were expecting the Count back every minute then; so she unbolted
the door and told me as quickly as possible what I was to do when he
came.  She said that whatever happened I was not to answer him if he
spoke to me, but only to nod or shake my head, and leave everything
else to her.

"Then we heard him on the stairs, and she sat down quite quietly in
the chair I generally used, and made me stand just beside her with my
back to the door."

Isabel paused, as if the memory of that rather tense experience still
lingered poignantly in her mind.

"I'd have given a thousand pounds to be there," observed Tony
regretfully.  "It must have been the best moment of the whole show."

"I wouldn't go through it again for anything in the world," declared
Isabel with a reminiscent shiver.  "It was like standing on the edge
of some horrible precipice waiting to be pushed over."  She paused
again.  "I can't tell you exactly what happened," she went on.  "I
suppose I was too excited to take it in properly.  I know that he
spoke to me first, and that Molly interrupted him and said something
about feeling a great deal happier and not minding so much now that
she was going to be married.  I remember that she held her
handkerchief up to her eyes as if she had been crying, and that the
Count seemed very pleased and satisfied and patted her on the
shoulder.

"Then almost before I knew what was happening we were walking down
the stairs together.  I heard him talking, but I don't know the least
what he said, because when we got to the head of the banisters I
suddenly caught sight of Tony and Mr. Dale standing in the hall, and
somehow that put everything else out of my head.  It was all I could
do to stop giving a shout and rushing down to them."

"Well, you didn't show any sign of it," said Tony.  "I never saw a
more dignified descent in my life."

"I am sure I should have dropped dead from sheer excitement,"
remarked Lady Jocelyn sympathetically.  "It's marvellous what sound
nerves you've got, Isabel; considering the shocking way your father
used to drink."

"It all happened so quickly," said Isabel, "I simply didn't have time
to do anything silly.  I just got straight into the car, and in
another minute we were rushing away down the hill, and nothing in the
whole world seemed to matter then."

"And how about the drive back and the battle on the beach?" inquired
Lady Jocelyn.  "Come along, Tony, I insist upon knowing everything."

"Oh, the first part was very simple," said Tony.  "We dropped dear
old Paqueta at the point where we picked him up, and I think he was
quite sorry to say good-bye to us.  Then we jogged along comfortably
till we came to Portriga.  Of course we were on the lookout for
trouble there, because of the row we had had with the policeman in
the morning.  Nothing happened, however, until we were just reaching
the beach, and then two savage looking gentlemen jumped out at us in
the most unfriendly way.  We should have been quite all right, only
as luck would have it there was a big cart drawn right across the
track that ran down to the jetty.  We couldn't pass it, so we had to
pull up and get out.  After that--" he broke off with a smile, "well,
you had better ask Guy to tell you the rest," he finished.  "He's so
saturated with blood and slaughter that he will be able to do justice
to it."

"Go on, Guy," said Lady Jocelyn.  "Don't mind my feelings."

"He is talking the most absolute nonsense," exclaimed Guy
indignantly.  "Bugg and I were waiting on the quay--we had come
ashore with the Captain to fetch him--and of course when we saw them
being attacked we naturally came to their help.  Tony had already
knocked down about three people, so there was practically nothing
left for us to do.  I am afraid I did shoot one of the policemen with
a revolver that I happened to have with me, but I am thankful to say
that he was only wounded in the shoulder."

"He's ashamed of himself," said Tony mercilessly; "that's what's the
matter.  Why he came up the beach like a roaring tiger, and if it
hadn't----"

There was a knock at the door, and almost simultaneously Ellen
presented herself on the threshold.

"If you please, M'lady, Mr. Henry Conway has called."

"Henry!" repeated Tony; "what a joke.  It just needed Henry to make
the party perfect."

Lady Jocelyn looked round her with an exclamation of dismay.

"Oh dear!" she exclaimed.  "I quite forgot to tell you I was
expecting him.  He rang up early this morning and left a message that
he was coming round.  I think he wants to know where you are, Tony."

"I am not quite sure myself yet," said Tony; "but I shall be
delighted to give him all the information I have."  He got up from
the sofa.  "Besides," he added, "it will be a good opportunity to
introduce him to Isabel."

"Are you serious?" demanded Guy.  "Do you really mean you want to see
him?"

"Certainly I do," replied Tony.  "I think people ought to meet their
new relations as soon as possible."

"Very well," said Lady Jocelyn.  "Show him up, Ellen."  Then she
turned to Tony.  "Are you going to tell him everything?"

"Of course not," said Tony.  "We must keep Isabel's past an absolute
secret between ourselves.  I have given my word to Da Freitas about
that."

"But you know what Henry is," objected Guy.  "He is sure to ask all
sorts of questions right away."

"Well, if he does," said Tony, "we must give him an evasive
answer--like the sailor."

Before Guy had recovered from this reply, footsteps were heard
ascending the stairs, and the next moment Henry was ushered into the
room.

As he caught sight of its occupants he paused dramatically on the
threshold; his naturally stolid face expanding into an expression of
the utmost surprise.

"You here!" he exclaimed, addressing himself to Tony.  "Why I have
been hunting London for you the last twenty-four hours."

"I hope you had good sport," said Tony.

"I wish you wouldn't disappear like that and not leave any address
behind," proceeded Henry in an aggrieved voice, "I had some very
important business I wished to see you about."

"I am so sorry," replied Tony; "but as a matter of fact I had some
very important business too."  He took Isabel's hand, and assisted
her up from the sofa.  "I have been getting engaged to be married."

For a moment Henry stared at him in dumb amazement.

"Is--is this a fact?" he stammered.

"I should think it was," replied Tony cheerfully.  "Let me introduce
you to Isabel.  This is Cousin Henry, Isabel.  I'm sure you'll get
along together splendidly."

By a tremendous effort Henry managed to pull himself together.

"You must forgive me," he said with a quite creditable bow to Isabel.
"Tony took me so completely by surprise I scarcely knew what I was
saying."  He turned to Lady Jocelyn and Guy.  "Why have I heard
nothing about this?" he demanded.

"We only heard about it ourselves ten minutes ago," replied Lady
Jocelyn soothingly.  "Tony always does things in that sort of way,
you know."

Henry's eyes travelled back to Isabel, and rested on her with
admiration--not, however, untinged by a certain trace of doubt.

"You must forgive me," he said again, "but at present I haven't even
the pleasure of knowing your name."

"Isabel," repeated Tony, "Isabel Francis.  It's a nice name, isn't
it?"

To this inquiry Henry returned no answer.

"Are you any relation of Sir George Francis of Laurence Weston?" he
asked.

Isabel shook her head.  "I don't think so," she replied simply.

"As a matter of fact," said Tony, "Isabel has no relations at all.
That's one of her chief charms."

"No relations at all!" exclaimed Henry in an aghast and incredulous
voice.

"Not one," said Tony firmly.  "But you needn't worry about that,
Henry.  Our engagement has the warm approval of both Aunt Fanny and
Guy."

"That's quite right," said Lady Jocelyn, nodding her head.  "I think
Tony is a great deal luckier than he deserves."

Henry turned to Guy.  "And you too?" he demanded.

Guy rose manfully to the occasion.

"If I was in Tony's place," he declared, "I should be the proudest
and happiest man in the world."

With the air of one who has been unexpectedly torpedoed Henry
abandoned the unequal contest.

"In that case," he observed in a slightly dazed tone, "I can only
offer you both my sincere congratulations."

"I knew you would be pleased," said Tony.  "You always wanted me to
get married, didn't you?"

"I hope," continued Henry, addressing himself to Isabel, "that before
long we may have the pleasure of becoming better acquainted.
Unfortunately I can't stay now, because I have an important political
appointment at half-past twelve."

"What a pity," remarked Lady Jocelyn.  "I was just going to suggest
that you should stay and lunch with us."

"It's very kind of you," said Henry; "but I'm afraid my presence at
the House is indispensable."  He turned back to Tony.  "You must
bring Miss Francis round to see us as soon as possible," he added,
"this afternoon if you can.  I know that Laura will be intensely
anxious to meet her."

"I am sure of that," said Tony.  "We are a bit full up, but we'll
come along if we can.  Anyhow, you will be able to let Laura know
what a charming girl Isabel is."

He smiled cheerfully at his cousin, and the latter, whose faculties
still seemed to be suffering a little from the shock that they had
received, shook hands all round and withdrew from the room.

"I think he took it splendidly," said Tony, as soon as the door was
closed.  "There's lots of grit in the Conway family when it comes to
the point."

"Are you really going round there this afternoon?" inquired Guy.

Tony shook his head.  "I am afraid we sha'n't have time," he said.
"I have to go and get a special license and I believe it's a most
exhausting business."

"A special license!" exclaimed Lady Jocelyn.  "Do you mean you are
going to be married at once?"

"Of course we are," said Tony.  "I am not going to run any more risk
of losing Isabel.  Once we are married she will be quite safe
whatever happens.  They can't have her back then without making me
King of Livadia, and I think that even Congosta would draw the line
at that."

"It's the best plan, Aunt Fanny," put in Guy quietly.  "We talked it
all over on the boat coming back.  This man Congosta is still in
London, and if he was to come across Tony and Isabel it might lead to
all sorts of trouble.  The safest thing is for them to get married
and go away at once on the _Betty_.  Congosta will probably return to
Livadia before long, but meanwhile it's absolutely essential that
they should both keep out of the way."

"I suppose it is," admitted Lady Jocelyn.  "From what you have told
me I should imagine he would be a very unpleasant person to have
hanging about while one was trying to enjoy a honeymoon."  She got up
from the sofa.  "You haven't half finished the story yet," she added.
"I want to know all sorts of things--how you propose to account for
Molly's sudden disappearance from the Gaiety, and what's happened to
that nice friend of yours who provided you with the car.  He seems to
be a remarkably amiable and obliging young man, but I am afraid he
must have rather damaged his prospects of making a comfortable living
in Livadia."

"Jimmy's all right," said Tony.  "He came back with us, and we are
going to start a shop together in Piccadilly.  As for Molly--well, I
don't think we shall have any real trouble there.  She has no
relations who are likely to make a fuss, and we have fixed up a good
sound lie for the theatre that ought to keep them quiet."

"You shall tell me about it when I come back," said Lady Jocelyn.  "I
must go downstairs first and talk to the cook, or else we sha'n't
have enough to eat for lunch.  You are all going to stay of course."

"I'm afraid I can't," replied Guy, shaking his head.  "I must get
back to Hampstead as soon as possible.  There are a lot of things to
see to before Tony goes away."

"If you are thinking of giving us a wedding present," said Tony, "we
should like the revolver with which you murdered the policeman."

"Come along, Guy," said Lady Jocelyn, taking his arm.  "They are an
ungrateful pair of children, and we will leave them to their fate."


"I wish I was really rich," said Tony, as the door closed.  "I should
like to buy Long Acre and put a high wall round it, and never let any
one go into it except ourselves."  He took Isabel's hands and drew
her gently towards him.  "I can't think of anything else," he added,
"that isn't absolutely and splendidly perfect."

"Only about Molly," answered Isabel, looking up at him with rather
troubled eyes.  "Oh, Tony, you do think she's safe and happy, don't
you?"

"I am sure of it," said Tony confidently.  "They can never go back on
what they have done, and in about two months Molly will have the
whole place under her thumb.  If any one's going to be unhappy it
will be Da Freitas and the Count de Sé."

"Oh, I do hope so," said Isabel feelingly.  Then she paused, and took
a long breath.  "She will make a wonderful queen, Tony.  She will be
as good at it as I should have been bad."

"You were meant for something much nicer than that," said Tony.

He drew her down into his arms, and bending forward pressed a long
and passionate kiss upon her soft and slightly parted lips.

"I love kissing you, Isabel," he remarked.  "You always taste of
crushed violets."

"Do I?" said Isabel dreamily.  "I'm so glad, Tony."

"So am I," said Tony; and with some deliberation he kissed her again.



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